


Walk Two Lifetimes

by Coolio101



Series: WTL verse [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hisana is a healer, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I think that's everything, Rukia is adorable, SI/OC reborn into Hisana's body, Slow Build, because healers are vastly underrated in Bleach, eh, she and Byakuya are complete dorks, so is Renji, super super slow build, written because canon!Hisana's backstory was shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 292,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coolio101/pseuds/Coolio101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surviving in the 78th district of South Rukongai was tough. When you were a ten-year-old girl with a baby to take care of, it was even harder. Getting reincarnated as Kuchiki Hisana after dying of cancer was never part of the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Being reincarnated into the Bleach world after dying of cancer- it sounds like the summary to one of those crappy fanfictions you hear about. The girl becomes friends with Ichigo and company early on, gets endowed with awesome powers, amazes everyone with her mad deductive skillz and insights into the future (that totally didn't come from having no social life in a past incarnation and watching way too much anime, really), kicks some bad guy ass and ends up with anywhere from two to seven guys after saving the day.

Unfortunately for me, my luck bailed out right after 'reincarnated into Bleach-verse after dying of cancer', so I didn't get the rest of the nice, convenient Mary-Sue package. Instead of being reborn into twenty-first century Japan with the benefits of modern technology (like flushable toilets, for instance), I was born a little over a hundred and fifty years ago. Far from having Orihime-esque powers, I ended up with no powers besides the ability to see souls and hollows from birth (I suspected my experience with death may have contributed to that), and fuzzy memories of maybe the first two or three Bleach arcs. The worst thing though, was being reborn into possibly the only character in the entire Bleach-verse who had died because of  _sickness_ , which, to someone like me who knew her hospital room better than her own bedroom, was like a cruel joke. Dying a slow, drawn-out, painful, hopeless death once was bad enough, but  _twice_? I was beginning to think I was cursed.

Chapter 1

The worst thing about dying of cancer, I decided, wasn't the dying of cancer part, ironically enough. Well, the dying of cancer part sucked balls, but it wasn't the worst part. The absolute, worst fucking part was that I spent four years studying my ass off at undergrad and then another near-decade at medical school, interning and completing my residency, and on top of that had spent a year working as an army medic as part of my contract to pay off med-school and  _I still hadn't seen the signs._  

To be fair, when you're working in the army, little things like weariness and bruises are easily brushed off when you're dealing with things like gunshot wounds, 3rd degree burns and working eighteen hours a day. As it is, when my body finally gave out on me and I collapsed from exhaustion, I was told that I had stage three acute leukemia and that my chances weren't good. My contract with the government was terminated and I was confined to a hospital bed.

My friends' and family's reactions varied. Mom burst into tears and ran out of the room. My strict, no-nonsense, accept-nothing-less-than-the-absolute-best dad looked like he'd just been told that the world was ending…either that or that American football was canceled forever. Takami Kobe, proud otaku and my best friend since college freshman year, yelled at me for ten minutes straight about how I was an idiot, and what was the point of even going to med school if I couldn't even diagnose myself, before storming away. He came back the next day with an armful of cancer books, a determined look on his face, and my favorite Starbucks drink as an apology. Dave, my asshole older brother, aimed a punch at my face and when I moved to dodge, redirected it at my shoulder and lightly hit it. With a muttered, "Christina, you bitch, you better not die," he then turned away to hide suspiciously red eyes. Henry, my sweetheart 6-year-old nephew and my favorite person in the world, just hugged me before looking up with wide eyes and asking, "You're gonna be okay, right, Aunt Christina?" At the time, I'd just hugged him back before reassuring him that, "Heck yeah, it's going to take more than some rebelling cells to do me in." Looking back, I regret making that promise. In my last few days, I regretted a lot of things about my life, but I think being unable to keep my promise to Henry was my biggest one.

Day One A.D. (After Death)

Well, now I know why people don't remember their births. Being squeezed through your mother's vaginal channel is…fucking traumatizing. No wonder babies come into the world screaming.

While at first I was confused as to why it felt like I was being squeezed painfully through a warm, wet rubber tube when I thought I'd died, it really wasn't that difficult to figure out what was happening after hearing the words, "Congratulations, Yukimura-san. It's a girl!" I wasn't even that surprised by the reincarnation part—I’d found that you tend to contemplate the afterlife a lot more when you only have a few weeks left, at most, to live. I'd thought about heaven, hell, oblivion, reincarnation. So I wasn't all that surprised that I was reincarnated. What I didn't expect, or want, was to still have all my memories from my previous life.

Day Two A.D.

Yukimura Hisana. That's my new name. I suppose as names go, it definitely could have been worse. Hisana sounds pretty. Delicate. Refined and gentle. The only problem is, it doesn't sound like me.

Day Four A.D.

People always say that learning a foreign language is a useful skill. All I can say is, amen to that. Never have I been so grateful that I decided to minor in Japanese language and culture in college. That semester I spent abroad in Japan helped as well. Thank you, thank you Takami for convincing me to learn Japanese. Waking up in the body of a newborn infant was bad enough, I don't even want to think about how nightmarish this ordeal would be if I couldn't understand the language. As it is, from my information gathering, I’ve found out that not only have I been born in a different country, I've been born into a different era entirely. One without the benefits of modern technology. Fuck my life.

Day Fourteen A.D.

I remember thinking sometimes on my bad days, when I was being pumped full of chemo drugs and nauseous from the radiation, that as painful and hopeless dying was, at least I wasn't on the other side of the hospital bed. I'd rather die ten deaths than watch someone I loved wither away slowly as their body gradually killed them.  _At least I won't have to mourn,_  I thought. Now, stuck in a different country, a different century, with no way of seeing my family or friends again, I can't help but think that irony is a cruel, cruel bitch.

Day Twenty-One A.D.

It's funny, though at first I was endlessly frustrated at how weak my new body was, now I'm grateful for it. The fact that my body's brain hasn't fully developed yet, that I now require three times as much sleep as I used to—all of it serves as a buffer from reality. I am now physically unable to comprehend as much as I used to in my 32-year-old body, and I am eternally thankful for that.

Day Thirty-One A.D.

I find myself sleeping quite a bit more than I strictly need to. My new parents are worried, I can tell. Selfish as it may seem, I can't bring myself to care. When I'm asleep, I don't think about all the things I've lost. It seems silly-I'm over thirty years old mentally, I should be more independent than this. I shouldn't be so reliant on my family. I should be overjoyed to get a second chance at life after my previous one was cut short. Takami would punch me if he saw how I was behaving and yell at me to quit moping around. Familiarity is just one of those things you only appreciate, I guess, when you're thrown into a place where everything is different.

Day Forty-Two A.D.

I've realized that the Takami-voice in my head is right. Being this angsty really isn't like me. What the hell am I so upset about anyway? It's not like my parents, Dave, Henry, Takami and the others are dead. They're probably way better off than me in any case, by simple virtue of the fact that at least they don't have to get their diapers changed. And while they'll miss me, I know they won't let my death stop them from living. I'll miss them too, and I'll always remember them, but honestly, a month and a half old is really too young to be dealing with depression.

One Year A.D.

Thank god for all the times Dave made me babysit Henry. I wouldn't have a clue how to act like a normal baby otherwise. As it is, I'm timing all of my firsts (first word, first time crawling, first time walking, etc.) to Henry's.

Two Years A.D.

I stared. The ghost—for there was really no other way to describe it—stared back.

"Wha—how—you-dead!" I shriek, reverting back to English in my panic, arms gesticulating wildly, waving between the spirit and its pale, cold and very dead body still lying on the bed. Two years had given me plenty of time to accept my new situation, and I felt that I was adjusting very well to life all things considered, but that this new world I had been born in apparently had ghosts was something I was finding difficult to swallow. It was my first time seeing someone die since being reborn, something that would have happened eventually given the fact that my parents were the only doctors in the village. So far, they had done a fairly good job of shielding my toddler eyes from death. Not that it was the death part that bothered me—I had seen my fair share of people die as a doctor, myself included—but the shade wandering around with a giant chain sticking out of its chest made my head hurt.

"Hisana-chan?" Yukimura Asuka, aka my new mother, asked concernedly, walking towards me. She picked me up and began humming soothingly. Her eyes, though they betrayed her weariness and sadness, gave no sign that she saw the ghost now looking at me curiously. I continued to gape at the spirit, scrutinizing the chain hanging from its chest. Something about that looked familiar.

"Ah, can you see me little one?" The ghost inquired with a smile. He was taking the whole death thing a hell of a lot better than I did, though the fact that he looked to be in his mid-eighties may have had something to do with it. Poor geezer had probably expected to kick the bucket any day now.

"Don't be sad. I've lived a good, long life and I've known that my time was coming for quite a while now, although I must confess this wasn't what I expected the afterlife to be like," he chuckled. Well, that makes two of us. "It's interesting that you seem to be the only one that can see me though," he mused. "Well, since there's really nothing I have to do now, I suppose I'll keep you company for a while."

And he did. I discovered that while Adachi-san—the ghost—could interact with things (J.K. Rowling had been  _so_  wrong) and that he could touch living things (i.e. me) with no problems, no one else seemed to have the ability to see or hear him. "Perhaps it is your age that allows you to see me," he theorized, "Children have the ability to see and accept a great number of things that adults cannot."

Perhaps that was true, but considering that I had the mentality of someone in her thirties, I rather doubted that theory applied to me. I personally thought that the fact that I remembered my previous death had a lot to do with it. After all, experiencing death probably made me a lot more sensitive to all things death-related, right?

It was on the third day Adachi-san spent with me that something changed. If he hadn't been telling me a story about his Good Old Days (and if I hadn't felt that it would be rude of me, toddler or not, if I fell asleep in the middle of it), I probably would have missed the entire thing. As it was, I was very much awake when in the middle of the night some random guy dressed in a black robe appeared in my house. I was about to open my mouth to scream and protest this very blatant breaking and entering when the guy pulled out a sharp, very deadly looking katana. I closed my mouth and tried not to whimper. Adachi-san went pale. The possible murderous-psychopath-with-a-sword sighed.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. All I'm going to do is send you off to the afterlife, where you belong." The guy gave a reassuring smile. Considering the fact that he still had his sword in hand, it wasn't very reassuring. Apparently Adachi-san thought so too, since he retorted, "What's with the sword, then? I didn't know getting stabbed and dying twice was a requirement for moving on."

Huh. That sounded positively snarky. I didn't think kind, gentle Adachi had it in him. A part of me, the part that wasn't chanting  _please don't kill me, please don't notice me, I'm too young to die_  was proud of him.

"I hate doing this," the guy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Who invented the idea of performing konso using zanpakuto anyway? I'm not going to stab you. All I'm going to do is place the hilt of my zanpakuto against your forehead, I swear. It's going to happen regardless of whether or not you fight, so just agree and we can get this over with." Adachi glanced at me, resigned. Well, I suppose it was hope the guy was telling the truth and let him do his thing or wander around the Earth as a spirit forever. When you thought about it, it really wasn't much of a choice.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye then, Hisana-chan. May we someday meet again, though hopefully not for a very long time." He smiled at me and I felt a twinge of pain in my chest. I swallowed. Boring stories or not, I'd grown kinda fond of the old man. Adachi turned to the grim reaper, or whatever the hell he was, and I watched as the reaper placed the hilt of the sword against Adachi's forehead. As Adachi faded away, a peaceful look overcoming his features, a wave of déjà vu washed over me. I ignored it, lifting up an arm and giving him one last wave behind the reaper's back. He winked at me just before disappearing. The Japanese grim reaper dude then looked around the room, his eyes settling briefly on me, before vanishing out the door quicker than I could blink.

It was only after my heart settled down and I finished processing the fact that Adachi was dead—and gone for good this time—that it hit me why the scene had looked so familiar. The chain sticking out of Adachi's chest, the black kimono-robe outfit the death god wore, the 'konso' ritual and the 'zanpakuto'—strange, it all reminded me of an anime Takami had once shown me.

Of course, that was ridiculous. I could accept being reincarnated in a different time with all my memories intact. After all, who knew how death worked? And even in my past life, there'd always been those stories of people who claimed to remember a previous life. But being reborn not in a past time, but in a whole different  _universe?_  One that existed only as a manga in my home world? That was a bit far-fetched, even for me. Really, the only thing the similarities between what I had just witnessed and Takami's favorite anime—what was it called again? Detergent? Soap? Bleach? Something stupid like that—proved was that some manga artist had gotten a few things right about the afterlife. In no way did it prove that I was actually  _in_  a fictional world.

Still, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that even the very  _idea_  was preposterous, an uneasy feeling remained in my gut. Either way, it was too early to tell. In order to prove the I've-been-reincarnated-into-an-anime theory right (or hopefully, wrong), I needed more evidence. In the meantime, I would try to dredge up what little knowledge I had about the Bleach-verse from the one or two arcs Takami had forced me to watch when he'd first met me. Which…easier said than done. Takami could probably list each and every character's abilities, age, birthday and eye color. Me? All I could remember at the moment was that the dorky librarian dude turned out to be some kind of evil mastermind and was after something called the Hoggy-whatsit.

Seven Years A.D.

I found the proof I was looking for, though not the proof I was hoping to find, five years later. It had been a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The only thing wrong with the picture was the gigantic butt-ugly monster with a hole in its chest terrorizing the populace like something out of a bad horror movie.

The hollow (for it could only be a hollow, no matter how hard I tried to deny it), suddenly turned, knocking over a fruit-stall in the process. I froze, hoping against hope that it wouldn't notice me. Maybe, like in Jurassic Park, it wouldn't notice me if I didn't move? No such luck. Its eyes latched onto me and it grinned, revealing a mouth full of rows and rows of sharp, jagged teeth. My stomach dropped and I felt nauseous. _Run,_  I urged myself,  _move, you stupid legs, move!_

"Well, well, what do we have here?" It rasped, pincher-like arms shoving a cart full of fish over. "A spiritually-aware human? Today must be my lucky day."  _Now would be a great time for those soul reapers to show up,_  I thought faintly. The hollow moved closer. Luckily, this had the effect of shaking off the terror-induced trance I was in.

"Stay back, you stupid over-sized crab!" I shrieked in a moment of panic-induced insanity. Then, pointing to something over the hollow's shoulder, I yelled, "About time you got here, shinigami!" When the hollow turned to look, I bolted. Oldest trick in the book or not, I wasn't going to complain if it worked.

I sprinted for my life, ducking around buildings, stalls, and people confusedly looking around for the invisible being destroying property left and right, ignoring the hollow's calls of "Get back here!" and "That was a dirty trick!"

"Well, you fell for it, dumbass," I yelled back. About ten seconds into my escape, I'd realized that though the hollow was currently fixated on me and ignoring the myriad of people milling about, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't decide to go after someone else instead should it lose sight of me. And, curse my guilty conscience, I couldn't let it chomp on some other poor soul. Though my chances of winning against the hollow were approximately nil, the odds would be even more stacked against someone who couldn't even  _see_  it. So instead, I led it through the less populated streets and towards the forest. Hopefully, with the increased cover and without having to worry about someone getting hurt, I could stall until a shinigami finally arrived. That is, if a shinigami arrived. I didn't even want to contemplate what would happen if the shinigami in charge of watching over this village was taking a nap or something.

Thankfully, luck was on my side today, and so a shinigami arrived just as I dove behind some bushes. The hollow, as stupid as it seemed to be, didn't stand a chance as the shinigami was actually kind of competent, and so five minutes later I witnessed it fading away. After dispatching the hollow, the shinigami looked around, frowning briefly. My heart nearly stopped when his eyes landed on the bushes I was hiding in.  _Don't notice me_ , I prayed. I had no desire to get my memories erased. Fortunately for me, the shinigami either didn't notice, or didn't care enough to investigate my presence and disappeared shortly after. As soon as I was sure the shinigami wasn't going to come back, I collapsed breathlessly on the ground. My pulse thudded in my ear as I tried to calm my breathing. After a while, I made my way back to my house, trying to ignore the way my legs were shaking.

My father looked up as I entered the house. "Hisana, you're back," he said smiling. "I heard there was some commotion at the marketplace today. I'm glad you weren't caught up in it." A hint of concern crossed over his face when he inspected me more carefully. "You're a bit pale, Hisana. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Otou-san. Just a bit tired today. I'm going to take a nap, okay?" I told him, trying for a reassuring smile. Judging from his expression, I didn't completely succeed, but he didn't argue. Crossing into my room, I pulled out the journal I'd asked my father for when I turned four. He'd bought it for me under the impression I wanted it for drawing on. Instead, I'd filled it with every scrap of knowledge about Bleach that I'd managed to scrounge up from the depths of my memories—a surprising amount. Flipping through the pages, I scanned the notes I'd taken, all in English. Turning to a new page, I scrawled,  _Theory confirmed by hollow sighting. Am living in an anime world. Situation: FUBAR._

I stared down at the words I'd just written. Funny, they kind of looked like a death sentence. Turning around, I threw the journal at the wall as hard as I could. It didn't make me feel any better.

Nine Years A.D.  

It took another two years for me to realize just who I had been reincarnated in. You see, though I found out I was now in the Bleach-verse, I'd assumed that I was just reborn into some random person with no real importance in the greater scheme of things. That assumption died a rather spectacular death when at dinner, with no warning, my mother blurted out, "I'm pregnant."

I choked on my rice. Dad began coughing on air. Mom had been getting sick a lot lately and she'd been acting nervous all day. Dad and I had begun speculating what was wrong after she spilled water all over a patient. As people who both made a living healing people, we really should have guessed what was up. We didn't, and I was starting to wonder if I was just a failure at diagnosing anyone who had a personal connection to me.

"What?" He spluttered. I pounded him on the back helpfully. "Asuka! This is wonderful! How long have you known?"

"Well, the symptoms are very similar to the ones present when I was pregnant with Hisana," she answered. "I started experiencing nausea a few weeks ago and recently I began developing a bump on my stomach." A worried expression crossed her face as she turned to me. "Hisana? How do you feel about this? I know this is a bit sudden."

"It's great, Kaa-san. I can't wait to be a big sister," I said sincerely. A warm giddy feeling was spreading through my chest and I couldn't help but smile.  _A younger sibling!_  "So do you want it to be a girl or a boy?"

"I wouldn't mind a boy," she said sighing, "but I just have a feeling this one is going to be a girl. Call it a mother's intuition."

"Well, I don't mind. I'm going to be a big sister either way," I grinned. "It's a bit early, but do you have any names in mind yet?" My father laughed. "This is all on your mother, kid. The agreement was that I got to name the first kid we had, and she got to name any kids that came after."

"I've been considering a few," Mom said thoughtfully, "In case I'm wrong and it is a boy after all, I was thinking Hikaru—light and brightness. What do you think?"

"It's a good name. I like it," I decided. "And if it's a girl?"

"Rukia. I've always liked that name. It's a lovely name, unique, and I have a good feeling about it," she mused.

"It's perfect! I approve! Should we have a daughter, Rukia she will be!" Dad boomed heartily, leaning forward to embrace her. It was a good thing he did, since it prevented either of them from noticing how I'd frozen.

 _Rukia. Could it be? What are the chances? How many other Rukias born in Edo Japan are there?_  I shook my head. No, this wasn't the time to contemplate things. Pasting a smile on my face, I forced myself to finish the rest of my dinner, hoping that I didn't look as sick as I felt. Luckily, both of my parents were too distracted to notice me much and so my quietness was left unquestioned. As soon as dinner was over, I calmly walked to my room and shut the door. As soon as I'd guaranteed myself some privacy (I had no doubt my parents would be too busy 'celebrating' to bother me), I ripped my journal out from under my futon and frantically searched through the pages. I stopped. There, about halfway through the book, I found what I was looking for.  _Kuchiki H.: Sister to Kuchiki Rukia. Wife to Kuchiki Byakuya. Abandoned Rukia when Rukia was a baby and spent the rest of her life regretting it. Died shortly after marrying Byakuya. Made him promise to find Rukia and take her in._

Honestly, there wasn't much on the person I suspected I'd been reincarnated into. I hadn't even remembered her name; only that it had started with an 'H'. What I  _did_  remember was that she'd wasted away because of some unknown illness.  _Was it even possible for a disease to carry across lifetimes?_  I asked myself slightly hysterically. Of course, there was always the chance that I was completely wrong and that  _this_  Rukia was completely unrelated to  _Kuchiki_  Rukia, but…let's face it…my luck wasn't that good. And now that I knew what to look for, I couldn't deny the physical similarities between myself and canon Rukia. The shoulder length hair, the strand of hair that fell over my face, the violet eyes—I hadn't seen it before, simply because the last time I'd seen these features they'd been present in an two-dimensional anime character, but now it was so glaringly obvious I couldn't dismiss it.

And then, as if discovering that I was the older sister of one of the main characters in an anime filled with constant danger, bloodshed and betrayal wasn't enough, I remembered that Rukia and Hisana died in the living world when Rukia was a baby. Which meant that I had little over a year to live. Shit.

Ten Years and Two Months A.D.

"Ahhhhh!" Another piercing scream split the air. I winced. There was a reason I’d never even considered becoming a midwife. Dad had forbidden me from being in the room, so I was saved from having to witness my new sibling being shoved out of my mom's vagina, but the shrieks of pure agony alone were making me cringe in sympathy. The labor seemed to take forever—I'd spent the last couple of hours bravely hiding in my room and covering my ears. Right then and there, I vowed,  _Never never_ never _am I_ ever _going to give birth. Adoption is looking like a fine course of action right now._

"Just a little more, Asuka!" How Dad could sound so excited when his wife was in unimaginable pain, I didn't know. "I can see its head coming through! Just push a little more!"

"Screw you, Seichi! You have no damn idea how it feels, so wipe that idiotic grin off your face!" Mom snapped back. I might have been shocked at hearing my polite, refined mother swearing at the top of her lungs if she hadn't been doing it for the past six hours now. Finally,  _finally_ , after what seemed like another six hours but was probably only about five minutes, I heard the sound of a baby's crying. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe.

This…Rukia's birth would be the start of everything. While Kurosaki Ichigo may have been the hurricane of revolution that swept through Soul Society and changed everything, Kuchiki Rukia provided the catalyst for it to happen. No matter what occurred from now on, I could kiss my chance of having a normal life goodbye. As Rukia's older sister, my actions would inevitably influence her and by default, have an impact on the future and, well—there was no other way to put it- fate of the world. At that moment, I can't even describe how in over my head I felt. I'd known, of course, ever since I'd figured out exactly who I'd been reborn as, that I would have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. It just never clicked in  _how much_. While I was having the existentialist crisis of a lifetime, the door opened.

"Hisana! Come meet your new—what are you doing lying on the ground like that?" My dad asked. I blinked, looking around. Huh. In the midst of the mini panic attack I was having, I hadn't even noticed my legs giving out on me.

"Uh, well, I just felt overwhelmed! I mean, I've been an only child all my life and now…I'm not." I winced at my idiotic excuse. My dad gave me a strange look, but luckily was too excited to question it further. "Well, get off the floor and come on in! It was a hard labor"—tell me about it—"but your mother's doing fine and the baby's as healthy as can be! You now have a new sister; as usual, your mother's intuition was correct."

Entering my parents' bedroom, I found Mom sitting up in bed, looking sweaty and tired but radiant nonetheless. And in her arms was…

"Is that her?" I whispered, gaping slightly. Smiling, my mom nodded and motioned for me to come closer. Gently, she placed Rukia in my arms and guided me through how to hold her properly. "Hisana, meet your sister Rukia. Rukia-chan, this is your Hisana-neechan. Say hello, will you?"

Rukia opened her eyes at my mom's voice and peered at me curiously with solemn, indigo eyes so similar to my own. I gazed back, feeling something like awe settle over me. So fragile, so innocent…at that moment it didn't matter what the future held. It didn't matter that she was going to be a key player in a world where danger was the only constant. At that moment, all that mattered was that she was my baby sister and that I was going to do my damned best to keep her safe.

Ten Years and Eight Months A.D.

It's a curious sensation, knowing that in all likelihood you are probably going to die within the year. I'd gone through it once as Christina Dalton and I was going through it again as Yukimura Hisana. With no way of knowing how the original Rukia and Hisana died, I had no way to prevent it from happening (that didn't mean that I wouldn't  _try_  though). If my parents noticed that I became much clingier over the last few months, they didn't mention it. I didn't know if they died too, or if I would ever see them again but it didn't matter. Ever since Rukia was born I spent every waking minute with them. I shadowed my mom around the house, studying almost obsessively how she cared for Rukia. She thought it was adorable and would always comment on what a 'wonderful big sister I was'.

I also followed Dad around like a baby duckling, watching and occasionally helping him treat patients and listening as he taught me about the different medicinal plants and herbs he used. Asian medicine was fascinating, and something I'd never really explored in my past life. Dad was thrilled with my interest in healing.

"I swear, you just pick some of this stuff right up," he chuckled. "I think you know more about the human body than I do sometimes." Yeah Dad, having two decades of learning experience behind you will do that to a person. Still, for all my ability to diagnose diseases, setting bones, wrapping wounds and prescribing medicines, it was another thing entirely to  _make_  your own remedies with plants found in the marketplace and the nearby forest.

I didn't think about our impending deaths. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to not depress yourself thinking about things you can't change.

4:42 a.m., October 27, 1830

One minute I'm dreaming of chocolate chip cookies (something that was sadly lacking in my new life) and the next moment I'm yanked brutally out of dreamland and into reality. At first I'm confused as to what woke me; the next instant my question is answered when another violent shake knocks me back onto my futon. In the next room, I can hear Rukia start to cry. The door opens and Dad walks in, looking tired but otherwise alright.

"Are you alright?" He asks. I nod and another shake forces him down. After another few minutes of waiting, nothing else happens. "It doesn't appear to be major. Just a few tremors and no one seems to be hurt. Go back to sleep." He tells me, reaching out and ruffling my hair. I drift back into sleep, too tired to pay attention to the sliver of unease in the back of my mind.

8:13 a.m.

"Hey Hisana-chan, look at this!" Takeru, the nine-year-old son of the local butcher calls out excitedly. I look up from where I've been perusing today's selection of fish, idly deciding what I want to have for lunch. Takeru is pointing towards the ocean, or more specifically, the beach where I can see the tide receding leaving behind wide stretches of sand. I frown; shouldn't the low tide have passed already? "Come on, let's go check it out!" He leaves just as I freeze, a terrible, awful realization starting to form in my mind. The fuzzy memories from this morning come back in full force. The earthquake. The receding tide. Living in  _Japan_ , a place with more fault lines than California.  _Oh god, no._

"Tsunami," I whisper out, horrified. The vendor, Ishibashi Kou, looks at me concernedly.

"Hisana-chan? Are you feeling well? You look awfully pale. Perhaps you ought to go home and rest for a bit?" He asks. I swallow hard, looking around. This village, all these people…how much time do I have? How many people will die? The villagers seem to have no concept of what a tsunami is, the way they bustle happily about their normal lives, oblivious to the receding water and what it means. I can't possibly save everyone; my priority is Rukia…Rukia! I balk, startling the vendor, and start running home. Before I've taken five steps, I hesitate and look back at Ishibashi-san, who stares back at me with worry in his kind eyes. Ishibashi-san, who taught me how to catch and prepare a fish. Ishibashi-san, who had given Mom two fish for free when he heard that she was pregnant. Ishibashi-san, who had no clue he was in danger. I made up my mind. Time limit or not, I couldn't just leave him there with no warning.

"Ishibashi-san!" I blurt out. "Listen to me. There's no time to explain, but in a few minutes, a giant wave is going to be heading this way. You need to get yourself and your family to higher ground as soon as possible, and tell anyone you meet to do the same."

"Hisana-chan—what—you can't be serious," he splutters. I can already see him beginning to protest, and I cut him off hurriedly.

"I'm deadly serious. Lives could depend,  _do_ depend, on this. I have to go. Ishibashi-san, please," I beg and then I turn around and sprint for home as fast as I can, not turning around to see if he decided to listen or not. By the time I burst through the front door to my house, my lungs are burning and each breath feels like a struggle. Mom looks up from the kitchen counter with a frown.

"Hisana? What's the matter?" She asks.

"Where's Rukia?" I interrupt her. Without waiting for an answer, my eyes scan the room and land on Rukia, where she’s in a makeshift basket/crib one of Dad's friends made. She's sleeping and I quickly pick her up. "Kaa-san, where is Tou-san?"

"He's away at the moment. Asari's father is sick again. Hisana, what is going on?" She demands.

"Look, there's a tsunami—a giant wave—coming our way. I don't know when it'll hit, but we have to be at higher ground by then." I say, urgently. How long has it been since I left Ishibashi-san? How long do I have left until it hits? Minutes? Seconds? Mom's face has turned pale and for a moment, I can only feel relieved that she believes me.

"I'd heard stories, but I didn't think…you're sure about this?" She demands sharply. I nod in confirmation. "I saw the tide receding. And with the earthquake this morning, I don't think that we need any more proof."

"Hisana, take Rukia and run as far as you can, you hear me? And," She grabs me by the arms urgently and looks me in the eye, "Swear to me that you'll do everything in your power to protect her, Hisana."

"I will," I whisper, "I promise." Something in her expression eases and her shoulders relax.

"Good. I'll go find your dad." I turn to run, but hesitate in the doorway. What do you say to someone you love when you know, deep down inside, that it's the last time you'll ever see them? Mom seems to know what I'm thinking because her expression softens and she smiles calmly, as if this is just any other day and I've just told her I'll be out for a short walk. "I'll be fine," she comes forward and embraces me tightly as I breathe deeply and try to memorize her scent. She smells like clean cotton and herbs. "Just remember that no matter what happens, your father and I will always love you both. Now go and be safe. Run."

"I love you too," I choke out, and then I'm running as fast as I can out the door because I know that if I stay a second longer, I'll never be able to leave. The awful thing about our village is that all the buildings are short and it's mostly flat ground. My best chance is to get as far away from the ocean as I can and then scale a tree or something. However, as I look off into the distance and watch the biggest wave I've ever seen in either lifetime approach like the claw of a legendary sea monster, I can't help but think that I'm already too late.

10:36 a.m.

I cling to the tree as tightly as I can, even as I try my best to shield a screaming Rukia with my body, as waves upon waves of seemingly never ending water crash down all around me. I hold on to the tree like it's my only hope for salvation, and indeed it is, the sole lifeline keeping me from being washed away to sea. I'd only managed to reach the edge of the forest before the first wave hit, and I'd promptly thrown myself at the nearest, reasonably sturdy looking tree I could find. It had taken everything I had just to hold on as the wave crashed in, sweeping away everything in its path. The aftermath was the worst part though. As the wave receded, it was near impossible not to get pulled away with it.

Yet as bad as the first wave was, I'm coming to realize that the succeeding wave is much worse. It's only by sheer dumb luck that the tree I'm clinging to hasn't swept away yet. As the water pulls back, a large tree branch bumps into another tree which sends it straight at me. My body is tired and aching, my lungs are half filled with water and I'm bleeding from various cuts caused by debris. With only my legs and one arm (the other holding Rukia) holding on, I don't stand a chance when the branch crashes into me. With a choked yell, I'm knocked loose and I only just manage to hold onto Rukia. The last thing I hear before I go under is my mom's voice,  _"Protect her, Hisana."_

 _I'm sorry,_  I think,  _I failed you,_ and then the world goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Get back here, you dirty piece of shit!" An angry shout came from behind me. It was close. Too close.

Inwardly, I cursed. Usually they weren't this persistent; it was just my luck that I ended up stealing from a guy who wouldn't give up even after chasing me for ten minutes. Clutching my precious cargo, I wove through the streets, ducking behind people and stalls. Hopefully, I would lose him in the crowd soon. At least I didn't have to worry about someone helping him catch me. Altruistic acts of kindness didn't exist here.

First Rule of Rukongai: No one was going to help you. Here, it was every man for himself.

An arm grabbed me roughly around the elbow and shook me violently. I winced; that was going to leave a bruise. The vendor I'd stolen a loaf of bread from turned me around to face him.

"Damn brat," he hissed, face purple with anger and exertion, "Don't you know what happens to filthy thieves like you? Why, I ought to slit your throat. Better whores like you end up dead than cluttering the streets like you do." That was as far as he got before I spit in his eye. His grip loosened as he broke off cursing and seizing the opportunity, I kneed him in the gut as hard as I could. Not waiting for him to recover, I broke free and ran off in the opposite direction.

Second Rule of Rukongai: If you wanted to survive, you had to learn how to defend yourself damn quick.

I wandered around in circles for a good ten minutes to make sure he hadn't managed to follow me, before heading back home. 'Home' was a small, rundown hut located close to the outskirts of town. It was little more than a shack, barely inhabitable, but it kept most of the rain out and was relatively isolated. All I could ask for, really, given the situation we were in.

Rukia and I had been dead for two weeks now (and wasn't that a strange thought?). After the tsunami, I'd only had time to wake up and register that Rukia and I were dead before a shinigami performed konso on us. I'd faded away and had ended up on the outskirts of Inuzuri, the 78th district of South Rukongai, with Rukia a couple of feet away. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that we'd ended up with the short end of the stick when it came to new living arrangements. Inuzuri consisted of seventy percent slums, ten percent semi-well-off merchants and shopkeepers, and twenty percent yakuza and gangs. And for all that the dirt poor people outnumbered them, the yakuza and merchants held one hundred percent of the power.

Third Rule of Rukongai: Don't get on the bad side of anyone with a number of hired thugs under their control, unless you want to wake up one night with your throat cut open. Keep your head down, don't make waves and you might just survive.

Rukia was awake when I got back. She whined plaintively when she caught sight of me and her face scrunched up. Uh oh; warning signs began going off like crazy inside my head. I counted myself lucky that Rukia wasn't one of those fussy babies who wailed nonstop, but she did cry her fair share. Thankfully, she usually calmed down relatively quickly.

Making my way towards her, I picked her up and began hushing her. "Hey there, don't cry. Yeah, I'm sorry I had to leave again, but I can't exactly take you with me when I go out shopping, can I?" Carefully, I took out the wild carrots I'd managed to find yesterday. Picking one up, I took a giant bite out of it, chewed thoroughly and spat it back out with a grimace. One thing I'd noticed was that most people didn't seem to get that hungry here. Oh sure, people still sold food and some people still ate, but they didn't really  _need_  to. Something that confused the hell out of me, since I sure as fuck still got hungry. Not as much as I used to—I only needed to eat once every other day, Rukia every three to five days—but I still needed to  _eat._

Taking the chewed-up carrot pulp, I put some on my finger and held it up. "Hey baby girl, lunch time. Yeah, I know it doesn't look appetizing but dead or not, you still need nutrients. And as long as I'm taking care of you, you're going to get them." It went against all my medical training to feed a baby using only my unwashed fingers (because  _eww)_  but silverware and sanitation weren't luxuries I could afford. All I could do was hope that when bacteria died it went to a different afterlife or something.

I bit into the bread Doucheface-san had so kindly 'donated' and shivered as a slight breeze swept through the room. The days were getting colder and the sun set earlier and earlier each night. Sighing, I focused on the way Rukia gurgled happily as she sucked on my finger and tried not to think about how I’d get through this approaching winter. I’d worry about that issue when I got to it.

 

* * *

 

"Look, I'm not asking for much. Just a meal and a place to stay for the night! I'm willing to do any work you give me, and I know how to cook and clean. Just please, let me and my sister in!" I pleaded. The woman at the door sneered. "And risk you making off with all the money? I know what your type is like. Trash, all of you. If you really want a place to stay, I'm sure you can find someone's bed to spend the night in." With that, she slammed the door in my face.

"Yeah? Well, screw you too!" I screamed at the closed door. Rukia shivered from where she was huddled against my chest and I smiled ruefully at her. "Looks like attempt twenty three is a bust too, huh?" I began walking down the street again. It was cold enough outside that most people were indoors and my hands had gone numb hours ago.

"At least it isn't as bad as the winters in Connecticut, though," I said to Rukia. "You've never seen one, but Japanese winters are  _nothing_  compared to the winters in Northeastern America. At this time of year you'd practically be buried beneath four feet of snow. This? This is nothing." I stopped for a moment to catch my breath as my vision blurred out momentarily. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. "Of course, back then I had a house, heating, and a family to go back to."

"Let's take a break, and then I'll go back to house-hunting, okay?" I turned down an empty alleyway, hoping it would provide some shelter from the wind and slowly sat down against a wall.

Surviving through winter was going to be near impossible. I'd known this peripherally, had known in some back corner of my mind that my current house, with its missing door and thin walls, wasn't going to provide enough shelter during the cold. It wasn't until the days started getting shorter and the temperatures dropped to the point where I couldn't leave Rukia without worrying about her freezing to death that I started to understand how hard it was going to be. I only had a handful of ryo left; enough to last me maybe a week. Staring down at Rukia's peaceful face, I couldn't help but wonder if this was how the original Hisana felt. Had she felt the same hopelessness in the face of such overwhelming odds? The futility of trying to raise a child with no food, no money, no job and no decent shelter? I'd always felt that the original Hisana was weak; surely there had to be a better way than simply abandoning her sister and hoping for the best? I suddenly wasn't so sure anymore.

"Are you really better off with me though?" I murmured. Because what could I offer her, really? I had no real marketable skills (I could offer to treat injured people, but who would trust a ten year old peasant to heal anyone?), no allies, no home…she was doomed to a life of poverty and hardship should she stay with me. Would it really be so bad to leave her here? It would be cowardly, yes, but it would also be unbelievably selfish of me to keep her with me. The original Rukia had turned out fine. Someone had obviously found her and taken her in until she grew old enough to fend for herself. Even if Byakuya never took her in (because the chances of him meeting me in Rukongai and falling in love were laughably small), she'd find friends to stand at her back and would become a shinigami either way. She might find herself in danger, if things went anything like the original timeline, but Kuchiki Rukia had always been one of those people who turned out fine in the end. How could I deny her that future?

Yet at that moment, when I turned to go, all I could think about was a memory from another lifetime, when I was eight and Dave was ten. I'd wanted to play basketball with him and his friends. Dave's friends, understandably, didn't want to play ball with a little girl two years younger than them. When I wouldn't go away, they'd let me play reluctantly. The game was brutal—they'd take turns shoving and tripping me; when I fell down they made fun of my clumsiness. I'd finally left when a basketball was thrown at my face hard enough to almost break my nose. What I remember most however, was when I turned teary, accusing eyes on my brother. He shifted uncomfortably, guiltily, and for a second I was sure he'd say something. Then he turned away, told me to scram and that no one wanted me there.

When my father found out, he was furious. I'd never seen him so angry at Dave. He was grounded for two months, was made to do all the chores, and banned from the T.V. and the computer. Two days after the incident, Dad called me and Dave into his office. With a face like stone, he'd told us, "I don't care if you two get into arguments and fight. I don't care if you get along or if you damn well hate each other. But when it comes down to it, you had better stick by each other, you hear? You're brother and sister; you stand up for each other. Understood?"

A week after his punishment ended, one of Dave's friends called me an "annoying little brat" and told me "not to show my ugly face around anymore." Dave stood up and punched him in the face.

I blinked and the memory faded. When had I stopped walking? At that moment Rukia woke up and upon finding me standing halfway down the alley, she reached up and whined. When I still didn't move, her face scrunched up and she started to cry. With a sigh, I walked back and picked her up. Swallowing hard, I looked down. I'd already broken my promise to my mom once; could I really do so again? Rukia yawned, and then looked at me knowingly, as if to say,  _It's not that hard, idiot. You've already made your choice._

I smiled ruefully back at her. "You're right," I said quietly. In the end, it was no choice at all. I shook my head and walked out of the alleyway with Rukia on my back. "Fuck canon."

Abandon family? Leave my sister's life in the hands of fate? Not a chance.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, you there," a voice came from behind me, "Girl with the short black hair. Yeah, I'm talking to you." I stiffened before turning around.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously. "May I help you with something?" The speaker turned out to be a tall brown-eyed guy with gray hair that fell over his eyes who looked about eighteen, not that physical appearances mattered much in this world. He didn't look angry but something about the easy, confident way he walked put me on guard.

"You've only been here a few months, right?" He asked instead. I nodded in confirmation; it was difficult to keep track of time sometimes but I guessed that I'd died about half a year ago, give or take a few weeks.

"My name's Yamato Tatsuya," he introduced himself. "I've noticed you're pretty good at pick-pocketing. You're smart. Quick. And you've got good instincts, with the way you pick out your targets." I shrugged. If anything, his praise made me more cautious.

"Yukimura Hisana—and I do what I have to. Did you go to the trouble of meeting me just to compliment my talent for thievery?" I asked sarcastically. He grinned at me, lips quirking up in a quick, easygoing smile. I didn't trust it one bit.

"You're a spirited one, huh? You can stop glancing towards the door, you know. I'm not here to hurt you. All I want to do is offer you a job, Hisana-chan."

"A job?" I asked wryly, twitching slightly at the familiar honorific. "One that will utilize my considerable pick-pocketing skills, I assume?"

"Hmm—maybe not so much a job. More like…an opportunity. See, I lead a gang of four other kids and I’ve been watching you for a while now--” Way to reach an eleven on the one-to-ten creepiness scale, there “—and I think you’ll fit right in.”

"And tell me why exactly I should join? I don't know anything about you aside from your name, and even that's a toss-up."

"I've been in this shit-hole for longer than I remember, I like onigiri, and my favorite color is green. There, now you do." His smile dropped and his face became serious.

"I'll be honest with you, Hisana-chan, since I despise liars. You may have been doing alright on your own now, but it won't last for long. It's true that you can't expect anyone to go out of their way to help you and that most people will stab you in the back at the first chance, but you also can't survive without allies. You stick with me, you do what I tell you to say, and I'll look after you. If nothing else, so long as you don't go against me, you can trust me not to hurt you. After all, I protect what's mine. Also," he shrugged, "it's not like you can afford to refuse my offer. I’ve heard that you've got a kid to look after. Isn't that right, Hisana-chan?" His tone turned mocking as he said my name.

My heart seemed to freeze in my chest as he mentioned Rukia and it suddenly hurt to breathe. His eyes possessed no trace of uncertainty or doubt; he knew that I was going to accept. The offer was just a formality—there had never really been any choice. The worst part was, he was right. I did need his help. I'd barely survived the last winter, and that was only because on attempt forty two, I'd finally found someone who was willing to take us in for a few months.

"Looks like you've done your research, Yamato-san," I said hoarsely. He shrugged, that playful, carefree grin slipping back on his face. "What can I say? When I see something I want, I work to get it." As if I was just some interesting curiosity that caught his eye. Nothing more than an object to be acquired.

"Why me?" I wanted to know. "There isn't exactly a shortage of pickpockets in Rukongai, and most of them are more experienced than me."

"I want you because you're strong, Hisana. You're right. There's no lack of thieves in Inuzuri, but not everyone has the drive I'm looking for. Most of them? They're little more than animals, only caring about themselves and how to survive to the next day. You've seen them, begging and whoring themselves out to anyone willing to throw them a handful of ryo," he spat. "And when it gets too much? They break. But you?" His gaze turned considering. "You've managed to retain your dignity. You've still got an honor code. I don't pick people only for their skills; I also want people who won't betray me."

"Save me the flattery," I said flatly. "It's creepy how much you've obviously stalked me. All I want is your word that you'll do your absolute best to protect my sister from harm. If you harm a hair on her head, the deal's over."

"I don't hurt babies," he said lightly, "But you do have my word that I'll do my best to keep her safe. You should lighten up on the paranoia, you know. It can't be good for your health. Don't want any gray hairs now, do we?" I scowled at him, and he laughed, punching me in the arm. "Lighten up! I was just kidding; a healthy dose of paranoia is good in these parts. Keeps you alive and from being fed to the fishes." With another cheerful grin (not even a day into our acquaintance and I was already hating that ever-present smile of his), Tatsuya waved and turned to go.

"Just one more thing!" He called out over his shoulder. "If we're going to be working together from now on, call me Tatsuya!"

Against my will, my lips twitched up and I ducked my head to hide my expression. I still didn't trust Tatsuya as far as I could throw him, and he was an overly-confident, overly-cheerful, manipulative psychopath, but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad.

 

* * *

 

"Whoa, what's with the baby? Aren't you a bit young to have kids? You're like, seven right? Didn't even know that girls could get pregnant that young." I glared at the annoying idiot in front of me. I'd been right. This wasn't bad. This was awful, horrible, terrible, and I was already regretting agreeing to Tatsuya's demands. Next to me, Tatsuya wasn't even attempting to hide his snickers.

"Rukia is my  _sister,_  you brain-dead, retarded waste of space! And I'm ten!" I hissed at the moron in front of me. So much for Tatsuya having high standards. I didn't know people came that stupid.

"Now, now Hisana-chan," Tatsuya chuckled. "Horio may not be the…brightest person in the world but he does have his merits." I stared doubtfully at him. Horio was a short, skinny brat with hair that resembled a rat's nest. "He is exceptionally good at creating distractions."

Let's backtrack a bit. Two days after our meeting, Tatsuya tracked me down again, this time at home (I was right, he  _was_  a stalker). Rukia had taken one look at him and had burst into tears. I had to give it to her; the girl had good instincts. After managing to calm her down, Tatsuya had dragged me off, Rukia in hand, to "meet up with the others" at what he deemed "the hangout"—an abandoned building not far from where I lived. Which led me to my current predicament.

"Anyway, time for introductions!" Tatsuya announced cheerfully. "Everyone, this is Hisana-chan and her sister Rukia-chan."

"Oh, is this the girl who you've been stalking for the past couple of weeks?" A boy with spiky black hair and blue eyes asked, grinning. Tatsuya pouted. "I'm Kazuki. Nice to meet you."

"Kaori." A girl who looked about thirteen with black hair tied up in a ponytail and bored gray eyes said disinterestedly. The last guy, a tall serious looking teenager with short black hair, nodded in my direction.

"That's Mitsuo. Don't mind him, he doesn't really talk much," Tatsuya explained. "And you might have noticed, but we all call each other by our first names. No need for formality when we're going to be watching each other's backs, right? You and Rukia can stay here, if you want. It's not much better, but at least you don't have to worry about the roof collapsing in, and there'll always be someone at base to look after her. You'll get an equal share of all the profits we bring in, and help yourself to whatever food you want in the kitchen. If you have any other questions, you can direct them to Kaori. She'll be showing you the ropes for the next few months." I glanced at the blank-faced girl. She didn't exactly look happy, but she didn't look upset either. "Got all that?" I nodded.

"Great!" He clasped me on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

 

* * *

 

Until now, I'd thought that while I wasn't the most talented thief around, I was good enough at it to be decent. Passable. Seeing Kaori pickpocket, however, made me realize how woefully inadequate my skills really were. She had it down to an art form, from being able to tell from a glance who had the most money, to being able to stroll down the street, casually bumping into people and lifting wallets, all without their owners noticing. She walked back to where I was hiding, smirking at my expression.

"How did you do that?" I demanded. "No one even looked up!"

"Easy," she said, "In order to be a successful thief, you have to be invisible. We have an advantage there, since no one pays attention to street urchins, but it's more than that. You have to be perfectly confident in what you're doing. Nothing gives away guilt more than doubt does, and nothing is more noticeable than someone with an obviously guilty countenance. Learning how to blend into the background is hard and it took me years to do it properly. Human beings have an innate desire to be noticed, to be important. That's why it's so difficult to learn how to be  _under_  someone's notice."

"And how do you know who to target? That last guy was dressed in rags!" I asked. She shrugged. "Everyone gives off signs. They're pretty obvious, if you know what to look for—a shift of the eyes, the way they bargain, how they walk. That last guy may have been dressed like a beggar, but when he passed by that stall selling sake, he paused for a moment and his fingers twitched towards his pocket. I can't really explain it. You'll learn with time."

* * *

 

"You should be careful around Tatsuya, you know." I glanced at the girl next to me. I'd known Kaori for a week now and this was the first time she'd initiated a conversation beyond simple orders and explanations. I still wasn't sure what to think of my…mentor of sorts. She didn't seem like the type to stab me in the back, but she didn't seem like she'd go out of her way to help me either.

"What do you mean?" I asked. If there's one thing I learned over the past couple of days, it was that every member of Tatsuya's group followed him with unshakeable loyalty. Though Kazuki teased and joked with him, not once had I seen any of them go against his orders. In our little 'family?' Tatsuya's word was law, which is why it was so uncharacteristic of Kaori to warn me against him. She sighed.

"I normally wouldn't bother telling you this, but you're my responsibility and so I guess I should warn you. Tatsuya…as happy-go-lucky as he seems, you don't ever, ever want to cross him. Even Horio, idiot though he is, knows better than to anger him, though whether that's because he's so stupid the idea hasn't even occurred to him, I don't know. Tatsuya is very used to getting his way, and he won't stand for anyone who he sees as under his authority challenge him." I fell silent.

"Don't get me wrong. Tatsuya isn't a bad guy, and I owe a great deal to him. Just…just do what he says and you'll be fine." Kaori shook her head and then grabbed my arm. "Come on. See that woman haggling with the vendor over there? She's your next target. Do what I showed you yesterday and she won't even notice she's been robbed until it's time for her to pay."

(It wasn't until months later when I witnessed him stabbing a man in the gut and leaving him to die before turning to me with a bright smile to ask what was for dinner that I started to understand what Kaori was saying.)

* * *

 

It was a month after joining Tatsuya's group that I finally found my niche. I wasn't stupid. Though Kaori was forever polite, Horio talked to me incessantly, Mitsuo always greeted me with a nod and Kazuki never failed to give me a grin, it was clear that in their eyes, until I proved my worth to them, I was nothing more than a burden. I didn't have Tatsuya's charisma or people skills, or Horio's knack for distraction. I wasn't physically strong or good at fighting like Mitsuo, or a conman like Kazuki, and I was a complete amateur at thieving compared to Kaori.

I was, however, good at cooking.

I didn't know if the others needed to eat. All I cared about was that they  _did_ eat (and in the case of Kazuki, quite a bit) and thus there was usually something lying around. For the first time since arriving in Rukongai, I had the luxury of being well enough off to experiment a little. And so, early one Saturday morning, I went into the kitchen with the bright idea of introducing French Fries to Edo era Japan.

Humming to myself, I stoked a fire underneath the stove and began cutting some potatoes into strips (even in the afterlife, potatoes were cheap). I poured some oil into the pot hanging over the stove and waited impatiently for it to heat up. I really hoped this would work—there wasn't exactly a McDonalds I could go to.

I'd thought about trying to recreate some of my favorite foods from my previous life for a while now. Unfortunately, my parents didn't let me anywhere near the stove. Once I died, I was too busy trying to find _anything_  to eat to think about  _what_  to eat. Here, I noticed that Mitsuo seemed to be assigned the duty of cooking, even though his repertoire appeared to be limited to rice and fish. It would be my first time attempting to cook in this world.

After I deemed the oil hot enough, I threw in the potato strips. I had to refry them about three times before I managed to get their texture to at least slightly resemble the fries I remembered. I was just about to sprinkle them with salt and some seasonings (since I sorely doubted I was going to find any ketchup) when--

"Whatcha doing?" Tatsuya's voice came from right behind me and I jumped.

"Geez, don't scare me like that! You're going to give me a heart attack someday," I grumbled. He grinned.

 "Looks like you've got to work on your situational awareness then. I wasn't even trying to be quiet," he teased, poking me in the shoulder.

"It's not my situational awareness that has a problem; it's you walking like a damn cat. And this is just an idea I got. Fried things taste good and potatoes are the best food ever, so I thought I'd combine the two." I shrugged and began sprinkling on the salt and some red pepper flakes to add spiciness. Why no one in Asia had come up with the idea was beyond me. I bit into one and chewed it slowly. It didn't have quite the same flavor or texture as the ones in fast food restaurants, but all in all it was pretty good. I'd try soaking them in water next time to remove the excess starch and maybe heat the oil up some more. I started sprinkling on more salt.

"Would you like one?" I offered, handing one over to Tatsuya. He took it and stared at it dubiously. "It's not poisoned, you know," I said dryly. He shrugged and popped it into his mouth. I watched smugly as his eyes widened and a look of bliss crossed over his face. He immediately grabbed another three and shoved them into his mouth.

"These are delicious! Hisana! You didn't tell me you could cook! You're a culinary genius! Oi, Kazuki! Horio! Come over here! Try this!" I watched as they experienced their first French fry with much the same reaction as Tatsuya. Mitsuo even graced me with a quiet, "These are good," when he came over. Kaori didn't outwardly react, but I caught her sneaking a plate to her room. By the end of the morning, Tatsuya and dubbed me the gang's official chef and I caught a glimpse of respect in Kaori's eyes for the first time. I beamed. Even in the afterlife, the power of a French fry was undeniable.

* * *

 

I'd been with Tatsuya's group for four months that I finally found the answer to why most people didn't seem to get hungry. I'd quickly found out that the group didn't only specialize in thievery and scams. Tatsuya also ran a delivery service of sorts. We'd deliver boxes to all kinds of people and would be rewarded with a few ryo each time. I never asked what it was that I was delivering. I didn't want to know.

I'd just delivered a shipment to one of the seedier bars in the area and was waiting for the bartender to pass me the payment when I overheard a couple men at the table across from me talking.

"Heard lil' Daichi's gone and become a Shinigami," one of them slurred to the other, "He's livin' in the Seireitei now."

"Lucky bastard," the other grunted. "He was always a weird one, always whining about how hungry he was. Man, wish I were him. Those damn shinigami are rich as fuck. Some people got all the luck."

"I don' know," the first speaker said slowly, "I don't trust those guys. You hear some of the stories? They say a shinigami can take out fifty men with his bare hands."

"That ain't nothin'. I know a guy who said he saw a Shinigami take out a whole pack of hollows with just one swing of his sword. Said he saw one of them get injured—by all rights he should have bled to death. Instead, one of his buddies came over and his hands started glowing green, no joke. Cut was gone in minutes."

At that moment the bartender came over with a wad of ryo. I carefully placed it inside my robe and thanked him before quietly making my way back where I found Kazuki playing with Rukia in the main room.

"Hey, welcome home!" He grinned upon seeing me. I waved back, before heading over to join them. Rukia squealed happily upon seeing me and I set her in my lap. She started rambling in that language only babies understood and I smiled fondly at her. She would start talking soon.

"Kazuki?" I said after a few minutes. Rukia had crawled back to him and had started reaching up in an attempt to tug his hair. "Yeah?" He answered, grimacing as she managed to grab onto a handful and pulled it in a way that looked painful.

"What can you tell me about shinigami?" He looked towards me and was quiet for a few moments.

"I keep forgetting, you've only been here for about a year." He sighed and tilted his head backwards. Rukia pouted and let go of her new toy. "I honestly don't know much about them. All I know is that they're crazy powerful, fight hollows, and live in the Seireitei. You don't see them around here often, as far south as Inuzuri is. You're better off asking Tatsuya. He's in the next room right now, if you want to see him." With a quiet 'thanks,' I made my way over to where Tatsuya was lying face up on a tatami matt and repeated my question.

"Hmm? Shinigami? Why do you want to know about them?" He asked.

"I overheard a couple people in a bar mentioning them and I got curious. Plus, they said something about shinigami getting hungry, and since I do too…" I trailed off. Tatsuya opened his eyes and gave me a curious look. "You get hungry? Well, can't say that I'm too surprised. It's uncommon around here, but not unheard of." Tatsuya motioned for me to sit down.

"I don't know too much about them, to be honest. They're a pretty mysterious bunch. See, you can only become a shinigami if you have high spiritual power, which is just as well since otherwise everyone would become one. It's having that higher level of spiritual power that makes you hungry, from what I understand. Their spirit energy, or reiatsu, allows them to do all kinds of seemingly impossible things, from healing fatal wounds to being able to form spells. They also have what they call a zanpakuto, which is basically just a really powerful sword. Their purpose is to keep the balance between worlds, or something. That's pretty much all that I've learned about them." He tilted his head up to look at me, one side of his mouth quirking up. "Well, that and to never, ever get in a fight with one. They're called 'death gods' for a reason, you know."

 

* * *

 

That night, I waited until everyone had fallen asleep before attempting to access my reiatsu, as Tatsuya called it. So far, all my spirit energy had done for me was attract hollows and make me susceptible to starvation; it was about time it did something useful. I thought over what I'd learned, and what I knew previously about the Bleach world. It wasn't fighting with reiatsu that interested me. I had no idea how I'd even begin getting a zanpakuto and I didn't know any incantations, so the spells Tatsuya described were completely out of my reach. What did interest me was what I'd heard about healing kido. It didn't sound like it required any incantations and should I learn how to use it, the benefits would be indescribable.

I sat up in a Burmese position (because hey, meditation seemed as good a place to start as any) and focused on calming my breathing.  _Deep breath in, deep breath out,_  I thought.  _Slow and steady, in and out…_  Ten minutes later, I fell asleep.

On day three of doing the exercise, I finally made some progress.  _Okay, Hisana,_  I started giving myself a pep talk.  _You can do this. You even got a good night's sleep yesterday so you probably won't fall asleep. Again._ Yeah, I wasn't that good at giving pep talks.

I was trying a different approach today. Previously, I'd looked through my mind and tried to sense something, anything, out of the ordinary. Tried to find anything that felt like energy of any sort. It's harder than it sounds when you have no idea what you're trying to find, or how to find it. Today, I was going to try a more visual method.

Closing my eyes, I first focused on clearing my mind, entering the first stage of meditation. The only thing that matters, I thought, is the feel of your chest rising, the wind entering your chest, your lungs expanding and contracting, the warm air you breathe out. I don't know how long I sat like that, feeling all my worries and thoughts drift away. Then, I began to  _paint._

I imagined a ball of light in the center of my mind, lighting up the darkness around it. It was warm, comforting, orange like the sun just before it sets. I imagined streams of bright fire coming from it, blindingly beautiful streams of plasma, arches of liquid brilliance. They danced around, warming my body like the first sip of a perfect cup of hot cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. I directed the streams towards my arms, where they flowed down like rivers of light. I imagined the energy flowing from my palms, heating the air, reforming into a tiny sun. And when I opened my eyes there was a ball of light, barely larger than an apple, floating before my eyes gently illuminating the room. I slumped back onto my futon, suddenly exhausted but couldn't help but smile. The ball of energy danced before me and I willed it to fade away. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

It took three more weeks before I could sense and direct my spirit energy with ease. It took two months before I managed to get my hands to emit a soft green light. It took every ounce of focus I had, and I had to be completely, utterly concentrated on the idea of  _healing_ , of fixing things broken and helping things regrow for it to work. Focusing it, commanding it, purifying it; none of it was easy. Another two weeks after that, I took a knife and made a small cut across my palm, then called to mind every scrap of knowledge I possessed on wound healing. Directing my reiatsu to the wound, I instructed it to reattach broken capillaries, speed up the rate at which fibroblasts were secreting collagen, and force epithelial cells to multiply at an unbelievable pace. Five minutes later, I stared at the thin scar on my left hand. I laughed, feeling elation rise up uncontrollably in me. The injury was barely more than a paper-cut and had used up more energy than I'd expected but this...this I could work with.

* * *

 

 

Omake

"Hi-sa-na," I enunciated slowly and clearly. "Can you say that for me? Heee. Saaa. Naaa." Rukia blew a spit bubble at me.

"Give it up, Hisana," Tatsuya laughed from across the room. "She'll start talking when she's ready. You know people age differently in the spirit world. Don't worry."

"I know," I huffed, "It's silly, but I want her first word to be my name. Well, either that or 'nee –chan'."

"You might have better luck with 'nee-chan'," Tatsuya pointed out. "'Hisana' isn't exactly easy for a baby to say." At that moment, Kazuki entered the room. "Hey guys, what's up—fuck!" He swore as he stubbed his toe on edge of the table. "That damn thing, always getting in my way. Fuck, this hurts!"

Rukia giggled, upon seeing her favorite plaything in pain. Then, to my horror, she opened her mouth and cried out, "Fu—!" Her voice broke off as I hastily slapped a hand over her mouth. Tatsuya choked out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Upon hearing the word that Rukia had—almost—shouted out, Kazuki's eyes widened and he hurriedly started to apologize.

"Fu—I mean, shit—uh, what I mean to say is, Hisana, I swear Kami that I didn't mean for that to happen! It just slipped out! Please don't be mad!" He turned to me with giant puppy-dog eyes. Tatsuya had started howling with laughter. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a brief second before opening them again calmly.

"Kazuki-kun," I stated pleasantly. His face paled abruptly. Behind him, Tatsuya suddenly stopped laughing. "Kazuki-kun," I repeated. "You know, I really like you. I admire your skills and respect your contribution to this group. You're a great friend, you've taught me a lot, and I think you could be a wonderful big brother figure to Rukia when she grows up. But," a gentle, understanding,  _kind_  smile formed on my lips, "If Rukia's first word is an expletive because you couldn't control your language…" I paused, staring him straight in the eye, "…I will  _castrate_  you."

My smile wasn't quite on Unohana's level, I thought. I doubted it would ever be, even if I practiced for a thousand years. However, looking at Kazuki's terrified face and Tatsuya's ash-gray one, something like pride spread through me.  _But it's a good start._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr (cooliogirl101) for more of my writing or if you just want to chat! :)


	3. Chapter 3

15 Years Later

I blocked a punch aimed towards my face and jumped to avoid my opponent's follow up kick. Seizing an opening, I coated my hand with a thin layer of reiatsu and managed to deal a blow to his abdomen hard enough to cause him to stumble back a few steps. Before he could recover, I darted back in with a flurry of punches and kicks. He recovered quickly and a jab to my throat caught me off guard. For a moment, I couldn't breathe and staggered. A hook to my kidney made me double over. The next thing I knew, my arms were pulled roughly behind my back and a knife was at my throat.

"Yield," I croaked out. Immediately, the knife was removed and my hands were released. I grumbled, rubbing at my sore throat. "Annnd…that brings our record to…"

"I believe it's ninety three to zero, in Mitsuo's favor," Tatsuya piped in, grinning, before handing me a cup of water. I gulped it down gratefully.

"Don't feel bad, Hisana," Kazuki added. "You've only started learning, what, a decade ago? And not full time either. Mitsuo's got at least half a century of experience on you."

"You've come a long way, Hisana." Horio said seriously. Then he smirked. "You've gone from being a shrimp who couldn't last two seconds in a fight to a shrimp who can't last two minutes in a fight."

"Hey!" I protested, scowling darkly. "I lasted almost five minutes that time. And don't call me a shrimp! It's not like you can talk. You're barely two inches taller than me!"

"Two inches taller is still taller, though," he taunted. "Midget! If I didn't know better, I'd say you shrunk during the last decade and a half!"

"DON'T CALL ME SHORT!" Having been five foot eight in a past life and not even topping five feet in this one had made height a rather sensitive issue for me.

"Any smaller and we won't be able to see you above the grass!"

"Why…you…" I growled and lunged at him. He blew a raspberry at me and danced away.

"Now, now you two," Tatsuya clucked his tongue admonishingly at us. It did nothing to hide the amused glint in his eyes. "Horio, try not to incense Hisana. Hisana, I'd prefer it if you didn't try to strangle Horio."

"Don't bother, Tatsuya," Kaori drawled. "Something about the other just makes them act like bigger morons than usual." I huffed, trying to ignore the way I suddenly felt like a little kid again. Sometimes, I wondered just how much being in a younger body had affected me mentally. At that moment, the door opened and Rukia peeked outside.

"Nee-chan!" She squealed, running over to me. "Are ya done? Didja kick Horio-baka's butt?"

"Oi!" Horio whined. "I can't believe you taught her to call me that."

"I didn't teach her nothing," I stuck my tongue out at him. "She came up with that all on her own. And no," I turned to face Rukia, "I sparred with your Mitsuo-nii today."

"Oh," she nodded knowingly, "So you got your butt kicked, then?"

"Why, you brat!" I ruffled her hair and she giggled. It was strange how people grew in the Spirit World. Hardly anyone died of old age, and it seemed the older you were, the slower you aged. At the moment, I was physically around thirteen or fourteen (meaning I still had hope that I would reach a decent height by the time puberty ended) and Rukia was around three or four. Mentally, she was closer to five or six.

"Is it almost time for dinner? Can we have pizza?" Rukia asked, turning to me with giant puppy dog eyes. In addition to French fries, I'd also managed to reinvent pizza, fried chicken, and funnel cake (a doctor introducing junk food to the world; there had to be some sort of irony in there).

"Nah, think we'll be sticking to rice and fish. Maybe we can have pizza tomorrow, huh?" I set her down and walked over to where Mitsuo was standing. "Okay, you know the drill now. Strip. Shirt off." I ordered sternly.

Kazuki snorted from behind me. "Hisana, you're the only kid I know that can say that with a straight face."

"Comes with the job. When you're a doctor, modesty is the first thing to go," I retorted, staring straight at Mitsuo. He reluctantly pulled off his shirt and revealed a sizable purpling bruise, causing me to wince.

"Sorry," I whispered, hands already emitting a faint green glow. Brushing my fingers over it, I concentrated on repairing broken capillaries and numbing the pain receptors.

"You're getting better at doing that," he observed.

"Yeah, well, I get a lot of practice," I smiled wryly. He looked at me for a while.

"You are getting better at channeling energy when you attack, as well." I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "Soon you will be at an acceptable level."

"And then I can start teaching her how to use weapons!" Tatsuya grinned, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"I think I'll stick to patching you guys up for now. I get that I need to be able to defend myself, but sticking sharp objects into people isn't really my thing," I deferred. The thing was, though I was fine with dealing out a few punches and kicks, I still was a bit uneasy with attacking with a knife. Bruises and even broken bones could be recovered from relatively easily; a cut artery was something entirely different.

"Nonsense," Tatsuya waved my protests aside. "Your body type is much more suited for wielding knives. Besides, daggers are awesome! Mitsuo and Horio mostly stick to hand-to-hand, and Kazuki and Kaori both prefer swords. I need someone on my side too!"

I shook my head, walking inside to get started on dinner. "Don't bet on it."

* * *

 

 

"Nee-chan?" I felt a small hand tug at mine.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, from where I was preparing a salve that would help with healing bruises. "What is it, imouto?"

"Can you tell me about kaa-san and tou-san?" Rukia asked shyly. I went still, finally looking down. Rukia was avoiding my eyes while biting her lip nervously.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked carefully. To be honest, I should have expected this. It wasn't surprising that Rukia would want to know about her parents and it wasn't like I had any aversion to talking about them. It's just…sometimes it was easier not to bring things up from before the tsunami. The others had never asked, and in turn I'd never asked about their pasts; for most people, life before Rukongai was something of a forbidden topic.

"I was shopping with Kaori-nee-san, an' I saw a pretty lady carryin' a baby while holding hands with a guy. Kaori-nee-san said that the lady and the man were the baby's parents, and I was just wonderin' why we don't have them." I sighed, motioning for Rukia to sit down. Family was different in Rukongai. I'd never even heard of someone giving birth; if a couple wanted a kid, they'd usually just adopt. I assumed it had something to do with spirit energy, though I'd never been able to confirm it. People made their own families; it was rare to find family members who were actually blood related.

"You know that Kaori and your brothers aren't actually related to us right? Of course, they're our family in all the ways that matter, but they were all born to different parents," I started out. Rukia nodded.

"Yup! That's why me an' you look alike, but we don't look anything like Horio." She replied promptly.

"Thank god," I muttered, causing her to giggle.

"Kaori-nee-san tol' me Tatsu-nii found us a long time ago an' in-inmited us to join his family. But she doesn't know what happened to us before that."

" _Invited_  us," I corrected. "And that's right—we weren't always a part of this group. But back to your original question." I paused, hesitating. How do you tell your sister about the parents she had never known? Kaa-san's smile and gentle hands, tou-san's enthusiasm and passion for his job…how do you put those things into words?

"We were born…in a village close to the sea," I began haltingly. "Kaa-san's name was Yukimura Asuka. She—she looked a lot like us. She had the same eyes as us, and long black hair that was always tied into a bun. Kaa-san was a wonderful cook; she could make a delicious meal out of the simplest things." I could almost see her then, welcoming me with a warm smile while chopping carrots and potatoes for dinner.

"Just like you!" Rukia exclaimed excitedly. I smiled sardonically.

"Something like that, though her meals tended to be a lot healthier. She was a doctor too, like me. Both our parents were, and she was brilliant at it. Always calm, soothing; she could make someone feel better just by being there. Tou-san's name was Yukimura Seichi. He taught me all I know about plants, and he was always so devoted to his job. He loved kaa-san more than anything and was the best father ever; he'd tell me a story every night. He could always make me laugh," I trailed off, remembering evenings by the stove and his low, rumbling voice in my ear while kaa-san laughed and sewed next to him. Something wet landed on my hand and I hurriedly wiped it off.

"What happened to them?" Rukia asked, eyes wide. I swallowed heavily before continuing.

"There was a tsunami—a giant wave. One day I woke up to an earthquake; nothing serious. But a few hours later, the sea was receding." Thinking back to that day was painful; I could remember the dawning horror and realization as if it was yesterday, the way I'd seen my death in that monstrously huge wave.

"It came back with a vengeance—a wave as big as twenty buildings stacked on top of one another. Kaa-san ran off to warn tou-san; I don't know what happened to them. I took you and ran as far as I could, but it wasn't enough." Too late, I realized that it probably wasn't the best idea to tell a child how she died and lost her parents, and grimaced. Well, nothing I could do about it now. I looked at a suddenly very quiet Rukia.

"They loved you, you know," I added. She looked up. "Even if you never knew them, they loved you. Kaa-san's last wish was for us to be safe. No matter what happened to them, just know that your kaa-san and tou-san love you very much. As do I." Rukia was silent for a moment.

"I wish I coulda known them," Rukia mumbled, fidgeting. I didn't say anything, just pulled her into a hug and gently started stroking her hair. In minutes, she was asleep.

The door creaked open, and Tatsuya peeked in, an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face.

"Listening in?" I asked, without looking up. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to eavesdrop?" He shrugged, not bothering to excuse himself.

"I hadn't realized that you remembered your past. Most people don't," Tatsuya said instead.

"Most people don't want to," I replied. "It's hard, leaving everything behind. The living aren't the only ones who mourn."

"It's easier to forget," Tatsuya agreed, "And Rukongai is, before anything else, a chance for a new life. I'm surprised that you chose to remember—but then again, considering your situation, perhaps it's not such a surprise after all."

"Memories make up who you are," I shrugged, "And how can I hope to raise Rukia if I don't even know myself? I can't afford to forget." Tatsuya stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I don't remember much of my past life," he said suddenly. "And I never knew my parents. My uncle took me in for a few years before kicking me out, and I grew up in the streets. Funny, isn't it, how little things have changed for me? Street rat, vermin, trash; in life and in death." His voice was unbearably bitter and I swallowed, because Tatsuya was a lot of things, but uncertain wasn't one of them.

"You're more than trash," I said softly. "You told me, when you first met me, that I needed your help to survive. And that was true – I joined you because I needed to. But  _I stayed_  because I wanted to. I'm not speaking just for myself here; Horio, Mitsuo, Kazuki and Kaori, we all made the decision to follow you. None of us would choose to follow trash, and you've got a lot of audacity for thinking so." I glared at him. "Wallowing in pity doesn't suit you, Tatsuya. You're better than that." He rubbed at the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.

"Ah, you're right as always, Hisana." His face lightened, regaining its normal cheer. "Besides, with all the good karma I've been gathering over the past few decades, taking in little kids and cute little babies under my wing, I'm bound to be reborn as a king in my next life." I snorted.

"I wouldn't count on it, idiot. If you want to be reborn as a king, you'd better start praying to all the gods you know of now. And shoo—you'll wake Rukia." He smiled, dancing away.

"Sweet dreams; you'll need your rest now. Because in a week, you'll be starting weapons training with me!" With that he walked away whistling, ignoring the way I rolled my eyes.  _At least he's not moping anymore,_  I thought. As creepy as his smile was sometimes, he just didn't seem right without it.

* * *

 

 

"So, where're the boys?" I asked, glancing towards where Kaori was giving Rukia a stealth lesson via stealing French fries. I smothered a smile; no matter how much she tried to hide it behind stoic faces and stony expressions, when it came to Rukia she was a giant softy. We all were, really. "And put those back; don't think I didn't notice that. Eat too many and you'll turn into a little potato yourself." Rukia pouted, but brightened up once Kaori whispered something in her ear. I didn't want to know.

"They're out at Watanabe's." Kaori replied. "Kazuki was bored, so Tatsuya suggested getting some quick cash." I nodded in understanding. Watanabe Hiruzen owned a casino, one of the more successful ones, and gambling was, ironically, one of the group's steadiest sources of income. It was amazing how good Tatsuya and Kazuki were at getting away with peoples' money without said people noticing. They practically had cheating down to an art.

"It's simple, really," Kazuki had once explained to me, "The trick to not getting caught is not taking too much at one time. Keep your wins relatively small, lose once in a while, and never go to the same place too often. The rest is all sleight of hand."

In the decade and a half I'd known them, Kazuki had only been caught a handful of times, and even then nothing major had come out of it. Hell, most of the gamblers there cheated from time to time, and so long as you didn't try to palm a couple thousand ryo, things rarely got serious. If things did escalate, well, that's what Mitsuo was there for. Kazuki was so good at what he did and he so rarely got caught that the idea that things might go wrong never even crossed my mind- which was why it was such a surprise when Kazuki burst through the door.

"Kazuki?" Kaori asked sharply. Both of us took in his panicked expression, the way he was limping slowly, the cut still bleeding sluggishly over his eye. Her expression hardened. "What happened? Never mind that, where are they?"

"Right around the corner to Watanabe's," he panted, "Horio got careless." I swallowed heavily, hearing the unspoken words he was all but screaming with his body language. A twitch of his hand towards the hilt of his sword;  _we have to hurry._  A glance towards the door; _they need me there._  The fear on his face; _things don't look good._

Kaori was moving before he even finished talking, grabbing her sword and dashing out the door. I was about to follow when a tug on my shirt stopped me.

"Nee-chan?" Rukia asked me with wide eyes. "What's goin' on?" I turned to where Kazuki was.

"I'll catch up. You go." He nodded before running out the door after Kaori.

"Your brothers just got in a bit of trouble," I said to Rukia seriously, "I have to go help them, okay? Listen to me. Until one of us gets back, you have to stay here. Please, Rukia, don't go after me."

"But I wanna help!" I nearly groaned at the stubborn set of her face.

"You can help by keeping yourself safe. If you follow me, then you'll distract all of us and we'll all be in danger. Just…just promise me you won't go anywhere." Rukia bowed her head for a moment before looking up again and grabbing my hand tightly.

"Then—then you gotta promise you'll come back!" She uttered fiercely. I paused stunned, for a moment hearing the echo of another child's voice, another lifetime.  _You're gonna be okay, right, Aunt Christina?_  The moment passed and I found myself saying, "Yeah. I promise you I'll come back."

* * *

 

The sun was setting by the time I made it to the fight. Sticking to the shadows, I watched unnoticed as the fight progressed and winced internally. Horio just had to go and piss off the leader of a battle-hardened group of thugs who were all easily three times my size, didn't he? And if that wasn't bad enough, we were outnumbered two to one. Two of them were out for the count; judging by their continued breathing they were unconscious but still alive. Even so, they wouldn't be reentering the fight any time soon. Unfortunately, our side wasn't doing so well either. Kazuki's head injury had only gotten worse and was clearly impairing his sight. Horio was also limping and had a broken nose. Both Mitsuo and Kaori were bleeding from various cuts. Even Tatsuya, who was dancing around his two opponents with enviable grace and agility, was beginning to wear down from exhaustion.

In the chaos, I quietly made my way over to where two of the men were ganging up on Horio. Channeling a bit of reiatsu to my fingertips, I snuck up behind one of the men and, jumping up, pressed my fingers to the base of his skull. Within seconds, he joined his two partners in unconsciousness. Using the distraction, Horio punched his other opponent in the jaw before drop-kicking him in the gut.

"Not too bad for a shrimp, huh?" I asked smirking. He gave me the middle finger and went to help Kazuki out with his fight.

In hindsight, I really should have expected it. I had the least bit of fighting experience amongst the group and had the most reluctance to kill. Add in my petite, fragile appearance and all in all, it shouldn't have been a surprise that I would be the most targeted. With all my focus intent on simply keeping up with the gargantuan brute in front of me, I didn't notice myself being slowly led away from the others. Tatsuya noticed first.

"Hisana! Watch out!" He shouted. I faltered, hesitating for a brief second. The next thing I knew, I was being grabbed forcefully from behind and shoved into a painful headlock, thick arms cutting off my air supply. My hands reached automatically for my throat, trying desperately to do something, anything, to free myself. A knife poised straight at my jugular stopped me.

"Stop, before I slit her throat!" My captor barked.  _It's like a scene out of a bad Wild West movie,_  I thought hysterically. "Drop your weapons!"  _And I'm the damsel in distress._

"Why should we? Like we care what you do to her!" Kazuki yelled back. Only the faint tremor of his hands gave away how terrified he was. The knife dug in deeper and a whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it. I hated myself in that moment.

"On second thought," he glanced at me, an odd glint in his eyes. "She's quite a catch, for a street rat." Bile rose up in my throat as revulsion swept through me, sickening and vile. "How about we propose a trade? I'll forget about the…insult you've dealt me tonight. You'll be free to go and you have my word my men won't seek retribution. In exchange…you give me this sweet little thing. You have such pretty eyes," he murmured, now addressing me directly, "I'd love to see what they look like when you're begging me for mercy."

"You sick pedophile!" Horio screamed, breaking away from his position behind Kazuki.

"Horio, no!" My eyes opened wide and for a moment, I saw the world through the eyes of a spectator watching a movie, utterly powerless to prevent the events happening on film. I saw Horio tearing himself away from the group, lunging towards where my captor watched with taunting eyes. I saw Mitsuo reach to stop him, only a second too late. One of the men ( _monstersfiendsmurderers)_  intercepted him just before he reached me, grabbing him from behind, reaching up to his head and _twisting_ —

It was so quick. One second Horio—idiot,  _idiot_ , reckless Horio—was rushing towards me, fury and righteous hatred and fear in his eyes and the next he was on ground, eyes blank, neck tilted at a horrible, unnatural angle, lying like a child's broken marionette.

For a moment, everything was still, the climax of a movie when everything freezes. Then reality rushed back and this was no movie, because no movie could  _ever, ever_  cause this kind of pain. I stared dumbly at the body, a part of me still disbelieving, because that couldn't be Horio, how could that be Horio? Horio was the loud, irritating brat who somewhere down the line became the little brother I'd never wanted but couldn't imagine living without anyway. The broken puppet on the ground wasn't Horio. It couldn't be.

But it was and the wall of denial began crumbling away, yielding to the tidal wave of grief and anguish behind it. Channeling my spirit energy had never come so easily to me before. Rage seemed to give me a focus and a determination that I'd previously lacked. Gripping the arm holding the knife to my throat, I sent a wave of energy down it, shutting down nerve receptors and muscles. His arm went limp and the knife he was holding dropped from suddenly numb fingers. I caught the knife before it hit the floor and, enhancing it with a layer of reiatsu, stabbed the man holding me straight in the chest. It slid through his ribs like a hot poker through butter. As he staggered back and collapsed, I stared at the blood covering my hands, stunned. Suddenly, I felt an urge to throw up and I bent over and heaved. It had been so easy, too easy, just a quick jab upwards to the heart.

A shove to my side caught me off hard and I tripped to the side. Looking up, I saw Tatsuya deflect a sword blow with his dagger. "The fight isn't over, Hisana. This is no place to be distracted." His voice was harsh, cold, with only the pain in his eyes giving away his grief.

 I nodded, pushing away my thoughts with the ease only years of meditation had given me. Everything from then on was a blur—stab, duck a punch aimed for my head, kick there, roll to avoid a sword. For a moment, it seemed like we would win. Mitsuo was taking on two of them at once, each move deliberate and utterly without mercy. Kazuki's face was absent of its ever-present grin, and from the corner of my eye I saw him slice his sword through his opponent's neck, nearly beheading him. Kaori's face was even more unreadable than usual and she calmly watched her enemy bleed out with cold eyes. I spun around, ducked in and tripped the guy sneaking up on me behind my back, sending him sprawling forward. And Tatsuya, Tatsuya was—

There was an odd buzzing in my ears. I stared in incomprehension at Tatsuya—Tatsuya who had a knife buried between his ribcage and continued to watch, unmoving, as the hand that knife was attached to ripped it back out, the silver now stained red. For an eternity, Tatsuya just stood there, a stunned expression on his face—and then he was falling, hand clutched to his chest, falling, falling, falling…

Vaguely, I heard a roar of rage coming from my left.  _Kazuki_ , I thought distantly, but I didn't glance back, couldn't remove my eyes from the impossible scene in front of me. Kept waiting for Tatsuya to get up again, to leap to his feet and continue fighting with that carefree, wild grin on his face.  _Get up!_  I wanted to scream, because there was something wholly  _wrong_  with Tatsuya, our protector, teacher and leader lying there helpless,  _weak._

A fist came towards my face and I blinked, avoiding it more out of reflex than anything else. I looked up to find the guy I'd tripped standing before me, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

"Aw, is the little girl going to cry?" He taunted. "Well, fair's fair. You killed our leader, so we killed yours." When I didn't react, he grinned. "What's wrong? Did you  _love_  him? You're a bit young to be spreading your legs, but—

Something inside me snapped and right then, I didn't care about morality, or self-defense, or the promise I'd made as a doctor ( _do no harm_ ). I lunged forward, tackling him, managing to shove him down solely due to surprise on his part. Then my hands were at his chest, and I was channeling more and more energy, shutting down arteries and veins until there was nothing but silence left. And then I was running to Tatsuya's side, kneeling down and checking frantically for a pulse. Tatsuya grabbed my wrist, smiling slightly.

"Hey Hisana," he said hoarsely as I hurriedly scanned him with my reiatsu. "Guess…I really messed up…this time, didn't I?"

"Don't talk, you idiot," I choked out. It felt like someone poured acid down my throat. I was beginning to panic; healing cuts and bruises were one thing. Broken ribs? Internal bleeding? A punctured lung quickly filling up with blood? I didn't even know where to start.

He coughed, and a trickle of red flowed down from the corner of his mouth. Dimly, I was aware of the sounds of battle slowing down. "Don't…cry," he said softly. I shook my head, wiping away my tears furiously and pressed my hands to his wound, trying desperately to stop the blood.

"You're going to be fine," I said instead. "You hear me? You're going to be alright." He smiled at me through bloody lips.

"Lying…doesn't suit you." He choked slightly, his grip on my wrist loosening. "Pray…for me, will you Hisana?" Tatsuya closed his eyes, and went limp, the minute rise and fall of his chest finally stopping.

"No," I whispered, "NO!" Slamming my hands onto his chest, I sent burst after burst of reiatsu into his heart, trying to do something, anything, to restart it into beating again. When his heart remained stubbornly still, I began pounding my fists on his body. "You idiot!" I shrieked. "You…how dare you give up like that? You promised me that you'd take care of Rukia! You said that we'd be a family! Wake up! You…you can't die." I began pouring spirit energy into Tatsuya's body, hoping, praying that a miracle would occur, that my reiatsu would respond to my wishes and erase his injuries, that Tatsuya would sit up and grin and berate me for ever doubting him. A pair of arms slipped around my waist, dragging me away.

"Hisana!" I recognized Kazuki's voice. "Stop it! He's gone! There's nothing you can do for him now." I ignored him, struggling furiously against the arms restraining me.

"Mitsuo, let go!" I shouted. "You don't understand!"

The sound of flesh striking flesh seemed abnormally loud, like the clap of a bullet being fired. I lifted a hand to my cheek, still stinging from where Kaori's hand had struck it. "Kaori…" I said, stunned.

"You think you're the only one who's hurting? We loved him too! Him and Horio both!" Kaori was shouting, her emotionless veneer completely absent for once. Her eyes were red, and her tears mingled with the blood dripping from an ugly cut on her face. "They were our family too! So don't you dare say that we don't understand!"

"It's not the same," I screamed back. "I'm our doctor! It's my  _job_  to heal them and I failed! I failed! I couldn't save them! What use am I if I can't even do that?" I was crying now, eyes blotchy and choking on mucus, throat closing up.

"You're our doctor," Mitsuo spoke up, voice edged with pain but unwavering and steady. "And you failed in saving them. But we failed as well." Kazuki nodded, jaw clenched.

"We're the backup. You've never taken on the role of a fighter, but we…we should have been able to stop them from getting hurt in the first place." He looked away. "I couldn't stop Horio from rushing in and getting himself killed and I should have been there to stop that bastard before…before…" Kaori laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"None of us are free from blame," she said, looking me in the eye, "But the fault doesn't lie completely with us either." Her eyes hardened. "And we made sure that their killers paid for it."

"Come on," Mitsuo said softly. "I'll take Tatsuya and Kazuki can take Horio. Let's go home."

* * *

 

 

Funerals in the Spirit World were different than funerals in the living world. For one thing, souls were composed of reishi, spirit particles, meaning that after a period of time they would simply…evaporate, and their particles would join the others making up Soul Society. Maybe someday, the spirit particles that had made up Horio and Tatsuya would be reincarnated into new souls. It could be years before they were reincarnated, if ever, but looking into the flames as they devoured the two coffins in their midst, I couldn't help but hope that somewhere in the living world, two new babies were born.

 _Please,_  I thought,  _if anyone’s listening…if there is a god…please let them both have another chance at life. Let them be happy._

"Nee-chan?" I looked down to where Rukia was clutching my hand tightly. She'd hardly let go of it since I'd come back, covered with blood and stumbling in exhaustion. For all her youth, she knew as well as all of us that sometimes people went out and never came back. She'd taken one look at Tatsuya's and Horio's bodies and had known that they'd never wake up again.

"Yes, Rukia?" I asked. "What is it?"

"What—what will happen to Tatsuya-nii and Horio-nii now?" I closed my eyes, suddenly weary. Mature or not, Rukia was still very much a child.

"They'll be reborn someday, given new lives," I answered distantly.

"Do you think we'll ever meet them again?" She questioned, voice small. Pulling Rukia close to me, I bent down and hugged her tightly, burying my face in her hair. "I hope so, imouto. I really hope so."

* * *

 

 

"Hey." I looked behind me to see Kazuki leaning against a tree.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, lying back on the ground. It'd been two weeks since we'd lost Tatsuya and Horio and though the sharp pain of loss hadn't dulled, I was starting to get used to it. Sometimes, though, I'd look at Tatsuya's empty futon, or I'd be cooking dinner and automatically turn to yell at Horio to stop stealing food only to find no one there, and the house would just seem  _so empty_ without Horio's obnoxiously affectionate teasing and Tatsuya's quick, reassuring smile.

"It's getting late. Rukia was getting worried," he replied, walking over and sitting down next to me.

"I just needed to get away for a while," I answered his unasked question. "The forest—it's peaceful."

"And full of hollows," he returned, giving me a reprimanding look, but didn't protest further. "How are you holding up? And don't say you're fine," he added, shooting me a sharp look. "It's obvious you're not."

"Like you're one to talk, Mr. I'm-going-to-get-completely-smashed," I grumbled. "You're lucky I'm nice, or you would've been suffering from hangovers for a  _week._ "

"Ah," he said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the awesomest person ever? And don't avoid the question." I sighed, mentally saying goodbye to my relaxation time.

"It's just…I killed two people that night," I stated, looking down at my hands. Sometimes, I had to reassure myself that they weren't still covered in blood.

"That's right. I'd almost forgotten—that was your first time killing someone, wasn't it?" He said, before giving me a concerned look. "It's tough, I understand, and affects some people worse than others. You know you can talk to us, right? None of us will think any less of you for being bothered by it. A first kill isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I'm not bothered by it." I stated truthfully. Because I wasn't. Not at all.

And that's what really disturbed me.

Because I was a doctor and once upon a time, the idea of killing someone wouldn't have even occurred to me. Of course, in Inuzuri it was only a matter of time, but I'd always imagined that it'd be a last resort, self-defense, and that I'd be wrecked by guilt afterwards. Not once had I imagined that it'd be so _easy_.

Because in those awful moments of silence after Horio had crumpled to the ground, I hadn't hesitated to strike out with lethal force. And after seeing Tatsuya fall, blood dripping from his mouth, I hadn't hesitated when it came to dealing the killing blow. At that moment, straddling my opponent with my hands on his chest, all I could think about was that these people had taken two comrades, two friends, two  _brothers_  from me and I hadn't hesitated in using my reiatsu to stop his heart.

And that scared me, more than anything else. Because I was Yukimura Hisana, once Dr. Christina Dalton, and I was supposed to keep people alive. I wasn't supposed to feel a vindictive sense of satisfaction after seeing the pained expression on my captor's face when I'd stabbed him. I was supposed to feel remorse after stopping someone's heart, not a vague sense of regret that I hadn't made the death more painful. I wasn't supposed to take  _pleasure_  in the loss of a life.

"It's just…I hadn't realized how much I'd changed," I said finally. Kazuki looked at me for a long time.

"You know, it's only human to want to take revenge," he said. "You're not a monster just for being happy the people who took away your loved ones are dead." He reached into his yukata, taking out a thin, sharp knife I'd recognize anywhere, and handed it to me. My breath caught and my hand shook as I wrapped my fingers around the dagger's hilt.

"Tatsuya's dagger…why?" I asked, looking up with widened eyes. A bittersweet smile touched his lips, edged with something like pride.

"Keep it. He would have wanted you to have it." He got up and started walking away. "Take care of it, you hear?" I smiled slightly before getting to my feet and following, hearing the unspoken words.  _Look after yourself. It's what Tatsuya would have wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing!


	4. Chapter 4

Fifty Years Later

I exhaled heavily, wiping my forehead with a piece of cloth, grimacing when it came back damp with sweat. Wearily, I stood up and looked down at the pale, thin form of my patient. Still weak, yes, but at least the fever had broken. Diseases, while much less common than in the living world, still existed among spirits.

“How is she? Will she recover?” The man sitting next to her asked anxiously. Smiling tiredly, I nodded.

 “She’ll be fine, Mori-san.” I handed him a pouch full of herbs I’d collected in the forest. “Take a pinch of that and boil it in water. The herbal tea should soothe her cough. Make sure she drinks it twice a day, every day for at least two weeks. Have her drink lots of fluids and get lots of rest. I know food is sometimes hard to come by, but that’s important too.” Mori rose to his feet in relief.

  “Both myself and my daughter are in your debt, Hisana-sensei. Here, take this.” He handed me a bottle of sake. “My best sake. And of course, everything will be on the house whenever you or your family stop by the bar.”

“You and I both know that I don’t do this for the payment,” I said softly.

 “We may be Rukongai, but we have our pride too. My door is always open to you should you need it.” He replied warmly. “Not everyone would do what you do.”

I smiled, but didn’t protest further. Perhaps, once upon a time, I could afford to turn down peoples’ aid when I knew they were barely struggling to get by themselves. However, as it was, only a fool would turn down favors when they were so freely given.

Walking down the street, I absently twirled Tatsuya’s dagger in one hand. It was rarely needed anymore; no one wanted to attack the only doctor who not only was willing to heal any patient brought to her, but also didn’t ask any questions and kept patient confidentiality.

“What would you think, Tatsuya, Horio, of me now?” I murmured. These past few decades had certainly been unexpected. When I’d first decided to offer my healing services to the general public, Kaori and Kazuki had thought I was crazy. Even Mitsuo had disapproved, worrying that I might attract the attention of some gang who’d try to recruit me for their own purposes.

“Having above average levels of reiatsu is uncommon, but certainly not unheard of. Having your level of control over it? It just attracts attention,” he’d argued. I remained undeterred; the helplessness I’d felt the night we’d lost two of our own wasn’t something easily forgotten. Up until then, I’d gotten by just practicing healing using my reiatsu on the members of my family when they were hurt. Unfortunately, I had next to no idea on how to treat diseases, internal injuries and any of the more serious afflictions…and Tatsuya and Horio had paid for it.

 It had started with a prostitute I’d found who’d had a bad experience with a customer. She’d had deep bruises covering her neck and arms, her right wrist was sprained, and there was blood staining the inside of her thighs. I’d nearly left her there, tossed to the side in a dirty alleyway, but I’d hesitated. Rape and murder wasn’t an uncommon sight and if you wanted to survive Rukongai without breaking, you had to accept that you couldn’t save everyone.

In the early days, before Tatsuya, the only reason I’d managed to keep my mind intact was because I’d been entirely focused on saving Rukia, blocking everything else out. There were those who were broken by their own kindness, unable to stomach the mercilessness of the slums and who slowly wasted away. Then there were those who threw away their hearts, their values, for a chance at survival and power. They became little more than hollows, forged from desperation and a savage determination not to die. And then there were the lucky ones, like me, who found something to cling to, a reason to get up every day. First Rukia, then Tatsuya, then Horio, Kazuki, Kaori and Mitsuo. Two of them were lost to me in a single day, and until then, I hadn’t quite comprehended just how important these six people had become in my life, how central they were to maintaining my sanity. I had failed my family once due to my incompetence, and it’d cost me nearly everything. So when I walked past the pitiful, broken figure huddled in a corner like discarded trash, I hesitated. Then, I’d walked over, pulled her to her feet and walked her back to my house.

 It was supposed to be an opportunity, nothing more. A surefire way of gaining medical experience, since there was definitely no shortage of people with health problems in Inuzuri. At first, everything went as expected. I did my best to lessen the girl, Reiko’s, pain and heal the vaginal tearing. Two days later, she recovered enough to leave and thanked me. A week later, she brought me a second patient: Fumiko, a girl who looked no older than twelve. Soon, I had a steady stream of customers from the red light district, most of them whores, some offering payment in money, others in favors. I didn't really think much of any of it until three months later, when Rukia went missing.

Usually, she was pretty good about behaving, but she was still a curious child and sometimes ‘got lost.’ Kaori, Mitsuo and I ran around frantically for four hours looking for her, while Kazuki (the one watching her at the time) sat around guiltily at home in case she turned up there. Just as the sun was setting, Fumiko showed up bemusedly at our front door, an abashed Rukia in hand, saying that she’d found Rukia playing with some kids by the river. It was after thanking Fumiko profusely and giving Rukia the scolding of her life (who knew Mitsuo had it in him?) that Kazuki first realized the potential of me ‘playing doctor’, as he called it.

And so, Inuzuri’s first and only medical clinic was born. Any form of payment was acceptable, be it in cash, information, food, services, even favors.

At first I was skeptical. But then, as months passed, things began to change. Stealing had turned into more of a hobby for Kaori than a necessity; turns out, giving the old vegetable vendor a salve that soothed arthritic pains ensured a steady supply of fresh vegetables. Treating the butcher’s son when he accidentally cut himself with a knife guaranteed a cut of meat, every week. The seamstress two streets down now greeted me with a smile and an offer to repair my clothes instead of a glare. Not all of my dealings were so innocent though. Since I’d made it a point to be a neutral party, even most of the gangs left me alone.

Maybe some of them would have tried to ‘recruit me for their own purposes’, as Mitsuo put it, but then they risked pissing off every other gang I helped. Sure, I’m certain some of them at least considered forcing me to work solely for a single group, but then they a. risked alienating me, b. risked losing some men to a protective Mitsuo, Kaori and Kazuki, and c. risked getting into a fight with every other group who disagreed with their idea. One of the first things I’d learned was, sometimes the threat of something was more effective than any action. As it was, by the time I’d been offering my medical services for a year, I’d somehow gained sanctuary for myself and my family from nearly every yakuza/criminal group in Inuzuri. They paid me in immunity and protection, and to me that was worth more than any amount of cash or favors. Perhaps it was cold of me, offering my help so freely to people I _knew_ were the scum of the earth, people who had lied, betrayed, raped and killed without hesitation or remorse. But really, all I cared about was that by doing so, I was preventing _my_ people from suffering the same.

Humming to myself, I headed towards the nicer areas of Inuzuri. Five years ago, I’d saved the life of a rich (by Inuzuri standards) merchant and he’d gifted me with one of his many houses in return. Kazuki looked up as I walked in, and his face split into a giant grin at the sight of the bottle in my hands.

“Is that what I think it is?” He asked excitedly, reaching out for it. I smacked his hands away.

“Yep, Mori-san’s best sake. And for god’s sake, have a little shame, will you? It’s six in the morning.” He pouted, and I sighed exasperatedly.

“I’ve told you, not in front of Rukia!”

“Rukia’s not even here! Besides, you can’t shelter her forever! And she’s not stupid, she’s seen us drinking before.”

 “Doesn’t mean I want her to pick up your bad habits, you alcoholic. If you must, go over to Mori-san’s place tomorrow. He’s given us a free pass.” Kazuki stared at me in amazement, before shaking his head wryly.

 “Somehow, I’m going to figure out how you do that.”

“Do what?” I headed towards the kitchen, opening a cabinet to try and find a place to stash the sake.

“Just manipulate people like that!” He demanded.

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied calmly, shuffling the half empty bottles at the front of the cabinet.

“You don’t even ask them for anything, and they give it to you anyway! They practically pile free stuff on you, and beg you to ask for more!” Kazuki’s voice was incredulous. “Hell, it’s only gotten worse over the years. In the beginning, it was a couple fruits and vegetables, maybe a few ryo. Now it’s an open invite to help yourself to anything they have.”

“Well, saving their loved ones might have had something to do with it,” I replied dryly. “If someone saved Rukia, I’d offer everything I could to them too.”

“You have a point…still, it’s kind of creepy how I get bombarded with free goods every time I walk down the street just because they know I’m close to you. These are the people who I’ve seen walk past a child collapsed in the streets without hesitating, and they practically fall over themselves to offer you help.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I huffed, but couldn’t help remembering the winter before I’d met Tatsuya, the dozens and dozens of people who’d shut their doors in my face when all I’d wanted was a scrap of food and a place to sleep.

“Offering gifts out of gratitude is _not_ falling all over me. Besides, guilt is a powerful emotion. It’s one thing for you to receive help from someone, knowing that the only reason they’re helping is because they’re getting something out of it. It’s another thing entirely for someone to save your life, to spend hours and hours of their own time helping you, all without expecting a single thing in return.” Kazuki was silent for a moment.

“So…by _not_ demanding payment, you’re practically ensuring that you _do_ get something out of it?” He asked. I smiled.

“Exactly. Whenever someone helps another person, it creates a sense of obligation. No one likes the feeling of owing someone, after all; that doesn’t change, whether you’re a noble or a street rat. Most of the time, that obligation is relatively easy to fulfill; you do something for me, I do something for you. By not asking anything in return, that sense of obligation is much harder to get rid of.”

Of course, most of this had only occurred to me later. When I started this whole thing with Reiko, I’d never expected such a turnout. Still, it sounded much more impressive if I made it seem like this was my plan all along.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Even Tatsuya was never this devious.” His voice was briefly wistful. Half a century later and Tatsuya’s death still left a gaping, empty hole in our lives. “’Course, it helps that you’re such a cute, little midget. No one would expect someone as nice-looking as you to be so manipulative.”

Perhaps at one time that comment would have bothered me. However, I understood it to be the compliment it was, coming from Kazuki. After what happened fifty years ago…we’d all changed. At times, without Horio there to lighten the atmosphere, things would be unbearably tense between us. All of us had come to blows at one time or another. Without Tatsuya’s leadership, the year after was hard. We’d all foundered, unsure of what to do, and eventually it settled on Kazuki to step up and take charge, though he’d never quite managed the same level of control as Tatsuya.

 Leadership had…changed him. On the surface, he was the same as ever, with the same lighthearted and cheerful demeanor and constantly cracking jokes. However, he’d gained a ruthlessness that nearly matched Tatsuya’s at his worst. He never let Rukia see any hint of it but as for me…well, Rukia may have missed the blood staining his clothes at times—none of it his-- but I didn’t. Even I didn’t know the extent of what Kazuki did, the things he did to gather information and keep us safe. What I did know was that on the second year anniversary of Horio and Tatsuya’s deaths, Mitsuo, making sure Rukia wasn’t close enough to hear, whispered in my ear, “It’s done. Their souls can finally rest in peace now.”

Looking at the serious but relaxed glint in Kazuki’s eyes that his grin couldn’t quite mask, the subtle way he was supporting his left side, and the dark circles under his eyes, I didn’t have any doubt as to what Kazuki had been doing for the past few months. I didn’t know how, or when, but I knew that there wouldn’t be a single man alive from the group that had taken two brothers away from me. Then, after I started my clinic, I wasn’t naïve enough to think that the risk of angering other people was the only reason I was left relatively alone from the more morally skewed groups. I’d been prepared for some people had come after me, if only because at some time or another I’d probably treated one of their enemies. That they hadn’t…well…that was telling in itself.

 Kazuki wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Perhaps my way of coping with what happened was the most obvious, what with the way I’d taken to healing random people. As a consequence of that night, killing to protect my family was also no longer something I hesitated over. But Kaori had withdrawn even further into herself around strangers. Sometimes, I worried that she’d shut us out too, though she was always better around Rukia and Kazuki (and I had my suspicions about the latter; ‘just friends’ really, did they think I was blind?). Mitsuo was constantly worried about us, hovering like a silent, protective shadow; ‘mother-hen syndrome’ as Kazuki put it. He was probably the only one out of us who really knew what Kazuki got into, following him whenever he disappeared, sometimes for days.

Shaking my head to clear it of thoughts, I turned to Kazuki.

“Where _is_ Rukia?” I asked, lying down on my futon. I sighed in contentment, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over myself. Forget boys; my bed was my one true love. Kazuki snorted at my happy expression.

“Honestly, I have never known anyone to love sleep as much as you do. Which makes your choice of profession all the more confusing.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He sighed, palming his forehead, though I caught a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “And to think, I just complimented you on your deviousness. Almost seventy years later and your maturity level hasn’t changed.”

 “Only around you guys, Kazuki,” I returned with a bright grin. “Around everyone else I’m gentle, selfless, calm and _certainly_ not childish or manipulative.”

 “That’s the scariest part of it. Anyway, Rukia’s staying over with those friends of hers. You know, the stupid looking kid with the red hair shaped like a spiky pineapple. Ren-something.”

 “Careful, your big brother instincts are showing,” I snorted. “And it’s Renji, dumbass. You’ve only known the kid for, what, a decade now?”

 “Eight years,” he corrected sullenly. “And can you blame me? Have you seen the looks of that kid? The only way things could get any worse would be if he had tattoos or something.” At this, I abruptly started coughing. Kazuki stared at me concernedly. A mental image popped into my head of Kazuki’s expression should he ever meet future-Renji, and I started wheezing, covering my mouth to hide my smirk.

When Rukia had first dragged mini-Renji through the door eight years ago, I’d almost had a heart attack. My memories of the Bleach-verse may have been blurry, despite my best efforts, but there were only one red-haired kid with an awful haircut who was friends with Rukia that I was aware of. After I got over my shock, I’d found that mini-Renji was actually kind of…adorable. I’d always had a bit of a soft spot for kids, only compounded by raising Rukia on my own, so I had to admit even my cold, shriveled, black heart melted a bit at seeing the kid stuttering and shyly avoiding my eyes, trailing after Rukia like a love-struck puppy. From what I remembered, Renji had always stood by and cared for canon-Rukia, so I had no problem with him and Rukia becoming friends. Kaori had the same soft spot for kids that I did, and Mitsuo, after staring intensely at Renji for several minutes during which the poor kid had started shaking and sweating but had stood his ground, also gave his approval.

Kazuki, for some reason, hated the kid on sight.

“I don’t get why you dislike him so much.” I commented, shifting my pillow into a more comfortable position. “And don’t give me that crap about ‘kids like him being after only one thing.’ Sixty five years old or not, they haven’t even reached puberty yet.”

“Yeah, well, excuse me for trying to protect our baby sister’s virtue. Don’t come running to me when a century down the line, you end up with that idiot as a brother-in-law and a herd of new red-haired nieces and nephews.” He grumbled, walking away. I rolled my eyes, pulling my blanket over my head.

Honestly, what a ludicrous idea. As if Renji would be stupid enough to get Rukia pregnant without my express permission.

* * *

 

 It felt like I’d slept for all of two minutes when I was rudely awoken.

“Quit shaking me, Mitsuo,” I grumbled. “What’s up? Someone better be dying, I swear.” His lips quirked.

“It’s a definite possibility. Oshiro sent for you. The younger one.”

 “Again?” I groaned. Oshiro Shigeo, the younger of the Oshiro brothers, was one of the most insufferable, stupid, arrogant dicks that I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. The only reason no one had offed him years ago was because his brother actually had a competent bone in his body and was powerful enough that no one wanted to piss him off by killing his brother. “What’s that idiot want now?” Mitsuo shrugged, and I dragged an arm over my face before sitting up.

“Fine, fine, better get this over with.” Walking over to the door, I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and centering myself, before I forcibly relaxed my face, corners of my lips turned up in my customary polite smile. My ‘default face #7 for dealing with irritating douchepants,’ as Kazuki had once put it in one of his many moments of drunkenness. Kaori had slapped the back of his head, before nodding approvingly in my direction. “I’m proud of you, Hisana. Every girl needs a smile like that so if someone ever crosses you, they won’t notice the knife in their back until it’s too late.”

 I opened the door right as the person outside of it was about to knock again. Seeing the nine year old—on the surface at least—kid in front of me, my smile softened into a slightly more genuine one.

“Daiki-kun, how are you?” I asked. Daiki rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“Oshiro-sama sent me to get you, Hisana-sensei. Not sure what he wanted, but he seemed kinda angry.”

“Well, let’s not keep him waiting, shall we? No need to worsen his mood when he’s already grumpy.” I grabbed my standard medical basket (bandages, disinfectant, herbs, clean water, etc.) and took the—on the surface at least—9 year old boy’s hand and he began leading me down the street. When he took me down a less populated road and stopped in front of a creepy looking warehouse, I raised my eyebrows.

“Well, this is different,” I murmured, surprised. I’d been sure that Oshiro Junior wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.

“Oshiro-sama says to come down to the basement.” He shuffled nervously. “I gotta go, Hisana-sama. Oshiro-sama didn’t want me coming down.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll find my way.” I reassured him, before heading inside. A growing sense of curiosity made me walk faster. For Oshiro to pick somewhere this far out of the way to meet with me…what was he up to now?

In all honesty, it wasn’t too hard to find the room Oshiro was in. All I had to do was follow the sound of Oshiro’s grating, nasally voice down a flight of stairs and to the end of a hallway. The door he was in was partially open, and I paused for a moment, taking in the scene inside.

The first thing I noticed was the person huddled on the floor, leaning against a wall. I couldn’t see his face completely, but the way his arms were wrapped protectively around his chest and the heavy, labored way he was breathing suggested cracked, possibly broken, ribs. I caught a glimpse of a dilated pupils—a concussion possibly?—and blood dripped down an ugly looking cut on his temple. I stilled when I finally noticed the clothes he was wearing. In the dim light, it wasn’t immediately obvious, but now that I’d had time to take a bit more in, I could see that he was wearing a black shihakusho. Looking around, I confirmed my suspicions by sighting a beautiful katana by Oshiro’s side. What the hell was Oshiro doing with a shinigami? An injured, bound shinigami at that?

Though, I had to concede, finally looking over at Oshiro, that bit probably wasn’t his fault. On the other side of the room were four other injured men. One of them looked like he’d been stabbed; the other three were suffering from blood loss caused by multiple lacerations. Oshiro was currently yelling at the one who looked the least injured.

“The hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I’d never seen Oshiro so furious…or so scared. His face was pasty and there was a gray edge to his skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“We thought we’d take ‘im for ransom! Look at pretty boy over there; ain’t no way he’s poor. His family’s definitely got money, might even be a noble!”

“He’s a shinigami, idiot! You think they’ll let this go? You kidnapped one of their own! We’ll be lucky if we get through the night without our throats being cut!” He began pacing furiously. “How did you worthless idiots even manage to win against him?”

“Found him at the edges of the forest. Looked like a hollow attack. The rest of ‘em were dead. He was alive, barely, and we thought he’d fetch a nice little price. He still managed to put up a hell of a fight before he passed out, though.” The man looked sullen. “Where’s Sensei anyway? These cuts hurt and Ueno over there looks like he’s gonna keel over soon.”

I was actually considering turning back around and leaving those suicidal idiots to bleed to death, professionalism be damned. Who was stupid enough to kidnap and ransom a shinigami, and an important one too, judging by the quality of his clothes? _Everyone_ knew that you didn’t mess with shinigami, because even the most pathetic one could take out ten of the hardest thugs.

“If you didn’t decide to do something so stupid, you wouldn’t be hurt in the first place, so suck it up!” Oshiro barked. “Look at the situation you’ve forced me into! I can’t let him go; the second I do, he’ll lead the rest straight to us. Can’t bribe him, either, since he had more pocket money on him than I see in a month.” Oshiro’s muttering was becoming more and more desperate. “Can’t let him go…but what do I do with him? If I kill him…but what if they come looking for him?”

“If you kill me, my family will never let this go. They will hunt down every last one of you.” A quiet voice came from the corner of the room. I almost jumped; though his words were slightly slurred, the way he spoke—cultured, smooth, with just a touch of arrogance and disdain—instantly eliminated the possibility of him being a member of the working class. Definitely a noble, then. From the way Oshiro’s features twisted, he’d noticed too. Unfortunately, the threat backfired.

“Oh yeah? But the dead have no way of talking, and even the shinigami can’t read minds. They’d never be able to prove I did it.” He tossed back smugly, brandishing a knife under the shinigami’s chin. The shinigami raised his head a fraction of an inch, and in that moment, I didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what he was thinking. Those cold, gray eyes held the promise of a world of pain, a lifetime of retribution. They said, _do you really think proof matters? My people will come for me, they will avenge me, and they will tear Rukongai apart if need be._ I believed him, and that decided my next course of action.

“Oshiro-sama,” I said quietly. “You called for me?” I looked him in the eye; dignified, but not challenging; posture respectful, but not submissive. It was something I’d mastered over decades of dealing with drug lords, yakuza bosses, people who could kill me in a heartbeat. Make them feel important, but never let them feel like they have power over you. Most of all, make them address you as an equal. I made a show of quickly glancing around the room, eyes lingering slightly on the injured form of the shinigami, like I hadn’t just spent the past ten minutes eavesdropping. “Is something the matter?”

“Ah, Sensei,” He stood back up. “As you can see, a bit of trouble has come up, but it’s nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.” I smiled placidly, trying not to grit my teeth. “I do apologize for taking up your time, but a few of my members have gotten into a bit of a skirmish. If you don’t mind?”

“No need to apologize, Oshiro-sama. It is always a pleasure to be of help.” I answered, making my way over to the man with the stab wound, hands already glowing green. From the corner of my eye, I saw the shinigami abruptly stiffen, eyes widening. It took about an hour for me to heal everyone to the point that they at least wouldn’t die. Few people knew the extent of my healing ability; as far as the rest of Inuzuri was concerned, I could usually only heal people to the point where the wound would become non-fatal, and I was determined to keep it that way. Why waste reiatsu, after all? After I finished bandaging the last man’s arm, I turned to Oshiro hesitantly.

“What of the shinigami, Oshiro-sama?” I asked.

“Rest assured, Sensei, he will be taken care of. Thank you again for your services,” he said in a clear dismissal. I hesitated, bracing myself.

“If I may offer a suggestion, Oshiro-sama?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. Asking would be a risk; there was nothing men like Oshiro hated more than having someone question their judgment. He narrowed his eyes, but motioned for me to go on.

“Disposing of him as he is might be…unwise.” There was no question of Oshiro deciding to dispose of the shinigami. Even if I hadn’t been listening in, to beat up a shinigami when he was down, kidnap him, tie him up and then let him go would be tantamount to suicide. There was no way Oshiro could let the shinigami go if he wanted to remain living.

“If I may, I have another idea,” I continued, seeing the way Oshiro stiffened in anger. “I presume that your men found him after a hollow attack?” At seeing Oshiro’s nod, I went on. “If he were killed by you, no doubt the shinigami would investigate his disappearance. Should they discover his death, they would most certainly seek retribution. Even if they don’t discover your hand in it, Oshiro-sama, you could be caught in the backlash of his family’s anger. For him to die by the hand of a Rukongai citizen would invite all of Seireitei’s anger.” I took a deep breath and stared him evenly in the eye, showing none of my inner turmoil.

“However, if he were to have died, in, say, a hollow attack, the same hollow attack that killed off the rest of his squad, it’s likely that no one would question it further. After all, while deaths caused by hollows are…unfortunate, they are not uncommon.” At first, Oshiro didn’t understand. Then his eyes widened, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Are you saying…yes, that could work…it would be much less risky and suspicious.” He turned back to me. “Sensei, could you make it appear as if he was killed by a hollow?”

My smile turned cold, an edge of cruelty tainting it. “My dear Oshiro, I am a professional. To fake the cause of death would be child’s play.”

 

* * *

 

Oshiro had two of the men who’d found the shinigami take him with me to the area where they’d found him. Taking in the demolished trees and the blood painting the forest, I raised an eyebrow, but otherwise showed no reaction. Turning to the men who’d dragged the Shinigami around, I instructed them to place him against a fallen tree.

“That will be all, thank you.” I dismissed them. They exchanged startled looks. “Unless you’d like to watch?” I asked sweetly, fingering the hilt of the shinigami’s sword (Oshiro wasn’t happy about having to part with it, but I’d convinced him that it was necessary for the charade to be plausible. Plus I’d seriously doubted the sword would work for him) when they made no move to leave. My smile showed just a bit too much teeth to be classified as friendly. In other words _, leave now or the next time I treat you for something I will use a bottle of sake to disinfect each and every one of your wounds_.

The two exchanged another glance, gulped, hastily backed away and walked off while trying very hard not to seem like they were running away. The moment they were out of sight and hearing distance, the smile on my face transformed into a disgusted grimace. “Cowardly scum,” I muttered under my breath before turning to the shinigami sitting stone-faced on the ground. He hadn’t spoken since we’d left the warehouse. I had to give it to him; even under threat of impending death, he still managed to maintain his air of you-are-so-far-beneath-me-you-should-be-honored-I-even-glance-your-way-you-plebeian-scum. I glanced at him and my respect went up another two notches. With his concussion, blood loss and the cracked-likely-broken ribs impairing his breathing, he should have been unconscious hours ago. Instead, he was glaring white-hot daggers at me. Sighing inwardly, I pulled out Tatsuya’s dagger.

“You don’t know much about hollows if you think you can recreate hollow-induced injuries with that tiny knife,” he scoffed. I barely resisted rolling my eyes. Barely. He stiffened and a brief flash of panic entered his eyes as I knelt down next to him, raised my knife and…cut through the rope tying his hands together.

The logical course of action, obviously, was to incapacitate me and take my knife away. Instead, he was so stunned that the only thing he could do was gape at me for several seconds. Then he scrambled away, jaw working furiously as he tried and failed to articulate himself. I watched as his aristocratic mask shattered completely with a growing sense of amusement before he managed to compose himself enough to cough some words out.

“What…why…you were just about to kill me!” He shouted.

“Contrary to how it might look, I am not, actually, in the habit of killing people in cold blood.” I said wryly.

“But why? You could have gotten away with it…probably,” he grudgingly admitted.

“It is nice to know that you have a higher opinion of my intelligence than you do of Oshiro’s. And as for why? Why not? I told Oshiro that I’m a professional—well, I’m a healer. I don’t like seeing people get hurt for no reason, especially when I can prevent it.” I shrugged and left it at that. The real reason was that the last thing I wanted was for a bunch of shinigami to come storming Inuzuri looking for revenge on behalf of the person sitting in front of me. They would tear the district apart, with no regard for who got caught in the backlash, and how would I be able to protect Rukia and the others then?

“I could have killed you,” the shinigami pointed out. This time I really did roll my eyes.

“You have a mild concussion, are suffering from blood loss, have seriously damaged ribs, and your breathing is impaired. I seriously doubt you’d go to the effort of trying to harm me when you’re so injured and I just saved your life. And I was right, wasn’t I? We’ve been talking for five minutes and you haven’t reached for your sword once.” I handed his sword back to him and stood up, pretending I didn’t notice the way he instantly relaxed once he had it in his hand. “Anyway, it’s getting late. I can’t do much for your injuries right now, but I’ll leave some of these bandages with you. If I’m correct, you shinigami have your own way of contacting help, correct?” I glanced over to see him nod stiffly.

“I can summon a Jigokucho to get back up. There’s another squad a couple districts away. I…if there’s anything I can do for you…I’m in your debt.” I considered his words for a moment, before fixing him with a serious look.

“If you want to repay me, don’t come back seeking retribution on Oshiro.” He started to protest, and I shook my head firmly. “Don’t. If it got out that I helped you, things could get difficult for me. My neutrality is what keeps me safe most of the time, and it gives me a bit of leeway in dealing with certain people. If anyone finds out that I violated that…” I trailed off. The shinigami hesitated, but then seemed to straighten up, staring me resolutely in the eye.

“I don’t like it—people like Oshiro should be punished. But if that is your wish, I will abide by it.” Once again, I was struck by the utter confidence he portrayed. It was this, more than the well-groomed hair and fine clothes, that gave away his status as a noble—as someone who’d never had to lie, steal, seduce, and kill, someone who’d never lost their honor. Even back in Oshiro’s warehouse, covered in grime, sweat and blood, I’d been able to tell instantly that the man in front of me wasn’t from Rukongai, had never _really_ been tainted with the dirtier aspects of life. I smiled wistfully, feeling a bit sad all of a sudden as I leaned forward to touch his face lightly, sending a burst of healing reiatsu to reduce the swelling in the side of his head as I did so. “Take care of yourself then. Don’t let all my hard work go to waste.”

It didn’t hit me until I got home that night and Rukia launched herself at me excitedly chattering on about her day that I realized why. It was because I’d looked at the shinigami in front of me, and had seen everything I’d ever wanted Rukia to be. Everything I could never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing :)


	5. Chapter 5

“So, I heard from a little birdie that you are one scary bitch,” Kazuki said strolling into the kitchen. I didn’t bother looking up from the potatoes I was peeling.

“Oh?” I asked, already having an idea of where this was heading.

“Now, I’ve known you for…about seventy years now. While I admit that you can do what needs to be done, you’re not the type of person who’d go out of your way to murder someone who’s never done anything to you.” He said, raising his eyebrows. “What really happened? Spill.”

“Nothing really happened.” When Kazuki continued to stare at me unimpressed, I sighed and continued. He’d get the story out of me one way or another, and really, it wasn’t like it was some big secret. “Some shinigami were sent to deal with some hollows in the area. Most of the shinigami died, but one survived. A couple of Oshiro’s goons found him and wanted to ransom him off. Oshiro was going to kill him, but I decided the potential fallout would be too great, and stepped in. Told Oshiro I was going to kill him and make it look like a hollow did it. Then I let him go. That’s it.”

“And you just let him go? You didn’t worry that he would retaliate against you?” Kazuki’s voice had gone dangerously smooth. I pinned him with a flat stare.

“I’d just saved his life and he was seriously injured. What, you think he was going to just jump up and start beating the crap out of me?” Kazuki still looked mildly doubtful, but seemed mostly appeased.

“At least you didn’t heal him. It makes me nervous, sometimes, that you’ll put your faith in the wrong person, help them, and get stabbed in the back for it.”

“Give me some credit, Kazuki,” I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t think he was going to harm me after I’d just saved his life, but I wasn’t going to take any chances either. And shinigami or not, he wasn’t about to unnecessarily attack someone in the condition he was in.” Healing someone when I wasn’t sure about their intentions towards me would just be stupid. Kazuki relaxed at my words.

“Good. At least you’ve learned something this past half-century.” He said lightly. “Now I’ve just got to find a way to teach this same cautiousness to Rukia. Did you know that Rukia actually had to save that pineapple-idiot from getting beat up when he got caught stealing something? Couldn’t she have chosen someone a bit more intelligent to be her boyfriend? Like, seriously. If he can’t steal properly, he should at least know how to run away, but it seems like he can’t do that either. How the hell does Kaori approve of him?”

“He’s not her boyfriend, you overprotective moron. And I pretty much sucked at stealing too before Kaori came along.”

“But you’d only been in the Spirit World for a couple months!” He shouted indignantly. “And even then, at least you knew how to run away and not get caught! That red-headed baboon can’t even do that! He needs a _girl_ to bail him out!”

“Are you saying there’s something wrong about girls? I do hope you’re not implying that girls are weak.” My smile was saccharine sweet. He shook his head frantically.

“Are you kidding? I’ve lived with you and Kaori for over six decades. Of course I know that girls aren’t weak. Doesn’t mean that real men should _need_ to be bailed out by girls.” I shook my head resignedly, but decided to let it go. I doubted that Kazuki actually believed what he was saying; he was just taking any opportunity he could to bash on Renji.

“How did you find out about that, anyway?” I changed the topic, scowling at him. It was kind of creepy, sometimes, the number of tabs Kazuki had on each of us. I knew it was his way of showing he cared, but even Kaori had to admit Kazuki’s stalker-like tendencies were…disturbing at times.

“Honestly,” I grumbled, “I don’t see why you go on about me having magical people-charming powers when you can get people to spill their every secret in minutes. How do you do that?” Immediately, I regretted asking as a roguish grin lit his face and he stepped forward so his chest was against my back. Wrapping his arms around me, he bent down so that his lips were at my right ear and his breath tickled the hairs at the nape of my neck.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, _Hisana-chan_? If you like, I could provide a…demonstration.” He murmured, voice low and rumbly. I shoved him off and threw a half-peeled potato at him.

“Shoo. That’s disturbing, you know that? Go bother someone who _doesn’t_ think of you as their brother and who’ll actually appreciate your charms. I hear Kaori’s free.” His face turned blank.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied stonily. I raised my eyebrows, lips slipping into a teasing grin. “Come on, _Kazuki-kun._ Who are you trying to fool? I could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. _Everyone’s_ seen you two eye-fuc—“

The kitchen door opened, and Rukia slipped in. “Nee-chan! You won’t believe what happened to Renji today!”

“—eye-friending each other.” I finished without skipping a beat, smirking. Kazuki looked at me incredulously, mouthing, ‘Eye-friending, really?’ I shrugged in return.

Rukia looked between us, confused. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing. Just how Kazuki and your Kaori-nee-san should get a clue…or a room,” I muttered the last part under my breath. Rukia’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh! You mean how Kazuki-nii-san and Kaori-nee-san are ‘special friends’ but don’t really know it yet?” She asked.

“Exactly,” I beamed, ignoring Kazuki’s sputters in the background.

“What—you—man, I hate it when you two gang up on me like this!” He whined. I turned back to my potatoes, smothering a grin. “Two against one—how is that fair?!”

“Life isn’t fair, you big baby. Get over it.” I shoved some carrots and a knife at him. “Now make yourself useful and start peeling these.” Looking at Kazuki grumbling sullenly as Rukia snuck up behind him holding a spider by a leg and wearing a mischievous grin, I felt a sudden wave of fondness. A lot had changed these past few decades, but we’d always stay a family. That, I decided, would _never_ change.

* * *

 

I woke up with a startled jerk, almost tumbling off my bed. It took me another few seconds to realize it was due to the loud banging at the door. Next to me, Rukia mumbled sleepily before opening her eyes blearily.

“Nee-chan? Was’appening?” She asked, still half asleep. I knelt down next to her and gently brushed the hair out of her face.

“Probably just another patient. Don’t worry about it; just go back to sleep.” I said softly.

“Do you haveta go? It’s the middle of the night.” She complained. “You’re always busy these days.”

“Sorry.” A corner of my lips quirked up. “Duty calls. I’ll be back in the morning, ok?” Bending down, I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before walking swiftly to the door, erasing all traces of sleep from my face as I did so. I didn’t see any of the others as I walked out; by this point, all of them had learned to ignore it when a patient showed up halfway through the night. The person at the other side of the door stopped mid-knock as I opened it.

“Reiko,” I said, pausing at the sight of the woman in front of me. The first patient outside of my family I’d ever treated. Usually she didn’t come to me unless it was serious.

“Sensei,” she replied, grinning, though her tone seemed strained. Though her smile was relaxed, the tension in her shoulders betrayed her worry. “Sorry ta bother you at such an awful hour, but one of the new girls—Miwa—she’s hurt. One of her regular customers gets carried away at times, but she can’t refuse him.” In other words, he was someone too important to risk offending.

I clenched my jaw, but nodded in understanding. Unfortunately, this kind of thing was way too common for me to be surprised anymore. Grabbing my supplies, I followed Reiko down the all-too familiar path to the red-light district. Slipping in the back door, I nodded a greeting to the Mother in charge of the brothel.

“She’s in the second to last room on the right.” She said, ushering me down the hall. “Thank you for doing this, Sensei.”

“Anytime,” I replied, then stiffened when I caught sight of the girl sitting limply on a couch. The girl—Miwa—couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old physically, and judging by the blank, empty look in her eyes and the tear tracks running down her face, hadn’t been in the afterlife long.

“Miwa-chan?” Reiko called softly from next to me. I couldn’t remove my eyes from the frail-looking, thin _child_ with the defeated posture. Like a beautiful porcelain doll with cracks lying just beneath the surface, unable to be repaired. My eyes lingered at the ligature marks at her wrists and neck and the fresh, purple bruise forming under an eye. Over half a century later and I still couldn’t get over the fact that it could have been _me_ lying there broken. If I had been forced to spend another year on my own…if Tatsuya hadn’t found me…

I shook my head, breaking my train of thought. There was no use ruminating on what-ifs or could-have-beens. I was lucky; prostitution was never an avenue I had to turn down, and it would never be something Rukia would be forced to turn to either. All I could do now was do my best to help those who weren’t as fortunate.

“Reiko, can you go get me some warm water please?” I asked quietly. Miwa still hadn’t moved. She nodded, and five minutes later was back with a pail of warm water and some clean towels. Slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a threatened animal, I made my way over to the girl that could have been me in another universe. Making sure to always keep myself in her line of sight, I knelt down next to her.

“Hello, Miwa-chan,” I said gently, making my voice as soothing as I could. “I’m Hisana—I’m a friend of Reiko’s. I promise I won’t hurt you. Won’t you look at me?”

I watched as large brown eyes blinked slowly and Miwa gradually turned her face towards mine. Once she was looking me directly in the face, I smiled comfortingly—the same smile I used whenever Rukia woke up from a nightmare—and made sure to look as unthreateningly as possible. She must have seen something that reassured her, since I saw her relax infinitesimally.

“You know Reiko?” She asked, voice small. From the corner of my eye, I saw Reiko move forward.

“Yes I do. She’s the one who brought me here, and she’s very worried about you.” Very deliberately, I reached out an arm and took one of her hands in my own. I took it as a good sign that she didn’t flinch away. “Will you give me permission to treat you, Miwa?” I asked, leaving out the cutesy chan honorific on purpose as I did so. If there’s one thing I’d learned about rape victims, it was that they needed to feel some semblance of control. For a moment I just looked Miwa in the eye, silently asking her to trust me while doing my best to convey that I would never betray that trust. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded.

Deciding to start out small, I dipped a small towel into the bucket of warm water, wringing it out so that it was only slightly damp. Raising the warm cloth to Miwa’s cheek, I gently wiped away the tears and sweat coating her face, keeping up a steady conversation as I did so.

“Have you ever seen someone use healing kido?” I asked. She shook her head, looking confused but curious. A vast improvement from the empty, lost expression she had on before.

“No. What’s that?” She asked. Next to me, Reiko grinned.

“It’s the coolest thing ever. You’re in for a treat, Miwa-chan,” she reassured her, “Sensei does some weird conversion thing with her spirit energy that causes her hands to glow green. Then she puts her hands on wherever you’re hurt, and poof! Next thing you know, it’s like you’ve never been hurt at all.” I huffed at hearing the logistics of healing kido being reduced to ‘some weird spirit conversion thing that made injuries go poof’, but had to smile slightly at the fascinated look on Miwa’s face. Not so broken after all, then.

“It’s a bit more complicated, but that’s the gist of it.” I said. Reaching into the by now familiar well of power inside me, I coaxed strands of energy towards my hands, infusing it with thoughts of healing, restoration and regrowth. Within seconds, my hands were glowing a soft green. Reaching out slowly, I touched the tips of my fingers gently to the livid bruise forming on Miwa’s face, and concentrated on mending the broken capillaries and torn tissue inside. A few minutes later, I leaned back and looked at the now-unmarred skin with satisfaction. I always did a much better job healing those I truly wanted to make better. Manipulating spirit energy, whether to heal or to harm, was all about intent. Easing a little of Miwa’s pain certainly made me a lot happier than, say, patching up Oshiro’s thugs, but I didn’t get to choose my patients.

Once I was done with her face—something that took only a few more minutes, the sicko probably wanted her face mostly untouched—I moved on to the rope marks around her neck, trying my best not to grimace. God, I hated those bastards that got off on strangling their partner. Shoving aside the burning anger simmering low in my stomach with practiced ease, I once again coated my hands with green. Infusing Miwa’s body with my reiatsu, I could sense, almost feel, every torn tissue, each hemorrhage in the muscle. It left an uncomfortable phantom itch around my own neck, an imaginary echo of the marks around hers. Thankfully, though ligature marks were difficult, they weren’t actually all that draining to heal. The whip marks on her back, however, were a different story. By the time I finished healing every single scratch—fuck exhaustion, if Miwa had to deal with lashes and near strangulation, I could deal with a bit of weariness—it was well into the early hours of the morning.

“How do you feel?” I asked, sitting back and wiping a towel over my face tiredly. Miwa brought a hand to her neck with something approaching wonder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She sat up abruptly. “It felt so strange! Like my skin was tingling, but warm all at once.” She glanced at me, eyes shining excitedly. “How did you do that? Can you teach me?”

Glancing over to her from where I was gathering up my supplies, I opened my mouth to gently refuse—as much as I hated it, I couldn’t save every girl from prostitution—but paused and looked at Miwa, considering my options. While I was healing Miwa, I’d noticed that she had a higher than average level of reiatsu. Not a whole lot, certainly not as much as me or even Rukia, but enough to be of help when I was treating her. People who had reiatsu always had higher healing rates (made me wonder what it would be like to treat a Shinigami). So instead of shooting her down point blank (something she was expecting judging by the downcast set of her eyes and the way her shoulders had slumped), I asked, “Do you ever feel hungry, Miwa-chan?”

Her head shot up, and she sent a confused, but hopeful, glance my way. Meanwhile, Reiko was staring at me speculatively.

“Huh? Well, I guess, sometimes. Not often—like, maybe once a week?—but I do like eating food. Why?”

“If you want, come over to my house for dinner sometime. Reiko can show you the way. If you’re still interested, and if you show a talent for it, we’ll talk. But for now, just try to get some sleep, okay?” Looking at the way she still tensed whenever I accidentally made a sudden movement and the almost-paranoid way her eyes constantly flickered around the room, I seriously doubted she’d be getting any sleep tonight, or for the next three weeks. From the way Miwa smiled bitterly, she was probably thinking the same thing.

“I’ll try. Thank you so much, Hisana-sensei! I’ll definitely take you up on that offer. Don’t forget!”

“Of course I won’t. I’ll be looking forward to your visit. Try to take care of yourself, alright? I’d prefer it if the next time I see you, it’ll be as a friend, not as a doctor.” Offering a last smile to Miwa, who was looking much happier than when I first saw her, I made my way out. Reiko followed me without a word. Just before I left, she spoke up.

“You’re seriously considering it, aren’t you? Taking her in. You’re not so cruel as to get her hopes up for nothing.” I was silent for a long moment. To be honest, the idea was beginning to seem more and more appealing the longer I thought about it. Training an apprentice would be satisfying, certainly, and reassuring as well to know if something ever happened to me, someone would be ready to take over. After all, though a lot of things had changed, and I was definitely healthier than canon-Hisana had been at this time, there was always the possibility…I shook that train of thought off and turned back to Reiko.

“It’s a definite possibility, yes. These past few years, I’ve only been getting busier, and there’s only so much I can do on my own. And she has the potential to be a great healer.” You didn’t need massive amounts of spirit energy, after all, to be able to do healing kido. Control was much more important than raw power. Rukia had both the control, and the power for it, and she learned a few tricks easily enough but…not the interest. She was a fighter, not a healer, someone who belonged on the front lines of a battlefield. She excelled brilliantly in her lessons with Mitsuo and Kaori, and nowadays could almost match me in a spar. It wouldn’t be long before she surpassed me, surpassed all of us.

“There’s little I can do to protect her. Hell, I can’t even protect myself half of the time. But if you take her in as your assistant…” Reiko turned to me, eyes suddenly pleading. “No one’s gonna risk angering you, Sensei, at least not over some no-name whore. I get that you can’t save all your patients and you can’t give everyone a way out, but…Miwa’s a good girl. She doesn’t deserve this life.” I looked away, swallowing hard.

“I’ll give her the opportunity,” I said finally. “What she decides to do with it is up to her.”

 

* * *

 

I gaped at Kaori’s indifferent face, almost dropping the bowl I was washing. After some deliberation, I’d decided to share my thoughts about taking in an assistant with her first. Out of all of us, she was the one who had the hardest time letting new people in, so I thought it was only fair I tell her first. Not only that, but while Tatsuya had been the first person I’d followed unhesitatingly, it was Kaori who’d been my first mentor.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what sort of reaction I’d expected. A blank look of disapproval, maybe. Not a shrug, and a nonchalant, “Sure, fine.”

“You’re really okay with this?” I asked incredulously. This was Kaori, the person practically embodied the word standoffish.

“What are you waiting for, a written approval?” She asked sarcastically. “Hand me that bowl, will you?” Numbly, I handed it over to her.

“I’m just surprised that you’re so…accepting of my idea.” I said. “I mean, you haven’t even met the girl and you’re alright with me practically adopting her?”

“So what if I haven’t met her? I hadn’t met you either when Tatsuya took you and Rukia in. To be honest, when I first met you, I thought you were a useless, ungrateful burden who’d only hold us back, but I trusted Tatsuya, so when he said he saw something in you, I didn’t protest. And he was right, wasn’t he? Look at you now.” She began drying the bowl in her hand. “So if you say you see something in this kid, who am I to complain?” She paused when I laid a hand on her arm.

“Thanks Kaori,” I said softly, “for trusting me.”

“Idiot,” she grumbled ducking her head, though I saw the tint of red forming on her cheeks anyway, “I spent the past few decades drilling everything I know into your head. If I couldn’t trust your judgment after all that, I wouldn’t be much of a mentor or a friend, would I?”

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to run outside to stock up on some bandages. I’ve been running low for days. Anything you guys want me to pick up on the way?” I asked.

“Nee-chan, can you get some more sword oil? And maybe another oil cloth?” Rukia asked, perking up. Kaori had finally deemed Rukia competent enough with a sword to get her one of her own, and she’d been obsessively caring for it ever since.

“Of course. But you do know that you don’t need to oil it three times a day, right?” Turning to the boy next to her, I asked, “What about you, Renji-kun? Would you like me to pick up anything?” Renji looked nervously over at where Kazuki was glaring death at him, and swallowed hard. I was hard pressed not to roll my eyes; seriously, Kazuki was around a century old already—shouldn’t he be a bit more mature? And Renji…I vaguely remembered him being a lieutenant, which was apparently a big deal, so where hell was his backbone?

“Uh…no thanks…I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” he mumbled finally. “I don’t like mooching off of people.”

“Nonsense,” I said warmly, “Kazuki makes you do enough work around here that you’d hardly be mooching. Besides, you’re family at this point—you certainly spend enough time over here to count. But if you insist…well, one of my patients told me there’re some blueberries growing by the river, so there’s a treat waiting for you there. You still have a couple hours before it gets dark, but be home well before that, okay?”

“Sweet! Thanks, Nee-chan! I’ll bring some back for you!” Rukia grabbed Renji’s arm and ran off. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“Honestly, Kazuki, you’re going to give the poor kid a heart attack someday,” I scolded, beginning to clear the dishes.

“I’m just trying to toughen him up a little!” He defended himself innocently. I didn’t buy it for a second, but let it go. He had a point, after all, and that guilt complex had to go. I liked the kid too much to want him ending up as someone’s bitch in the future. For some reason, the image of a stupid-looking hat and a creepy smile popped into my head.

“You sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?” Kazuki asked casually. I looked up frowning; anyone else wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but I knew him too well to think that nothing was up. That Mitsuo was watching a bit more closely than he usually would only cemented it.

“I’m fine. It’s only a shopping trip after all,” I said, studying Kazuki thoughtfully. Cautious, but not wary; so he was unsure of something, but didn’t think I was in any real danger? Originally, it had been Kaori who was supposed to do the weekly shopping trip, but the past few days she’d been loaded down with work (a few years ago, since her more…specialized skills were no longer needed, she’d taken up a side job of helping other people manage their affairs and assets—the irony). Kazuki hadn’t seemed at all worried about her, though, so either this was a really recent thing or it was something tied to me specifically. Tired of analyzing the issue, I decided to stop dancing around it and just ask Kazuki directly.

“What is this about? It’s unlike you to be so cautious.” I pointed out. Kazuki and Mitsuo exchanged looks before Kazuki shrugged.

“It’s nothing big. Probably nothing to worry about…it’s just, I’ve gotten a few different reports from various sources about some guy asking around for you. Well, not you specifically—he didn’t seem to know your name, but as far as I know, you’re the only short midget who can use healing kido going by ‘Sensei’ in Inuzuri.”

“And?” I didn’t see what the big deal was. Most of Inuzuri had probably ‘asked around for me’ at one point or another. That he didn’t know my name suggested he wasn’t an inhabitant here, but while somewhat more uncommon, I did get visitors from other districts once in a while.

“He’s not from Rukongai, Hisana,” Mitsuo spoke up. “All the people I’ve heard from have agreed on that. No one’s told him where to find you, as far as I know, but it never hurts to be careful. If he’s a shinigami who’s heard of your abilities and is curious…well, it’s probably for the best if you don’t run into him.”

“I understand,” I said, but my mind was whirling. Someone obviously not from the Rukongai, possibly a shinigami…it’d been over two weeks since the Oshiro incident, but…

“Hisana?” Mitsuo looked vaguely concerned, waving a hand over my face.

“Just thinking,” I dismissed my thoughts with a shake of my head. I didn’t have enough information to make any inferences, anyway. “I should be fine going alone. It’s only six thirty, and I’ll be back by nine at the latest. Thanks for telling me this; I’ll keep an eye out for any suspicious characters. If it does turn out to be serious, well, I bet I know Inuzuri a hell of a lot better than he does. He’ll never find me if I don’t want him to.” The thought that someone might lead him to me crossed my mind briefly, but was abruptly dismissed. No one was going to exchange lifelong reliable medical service for a few pieces of gold.

Both Mitsuo and Kazuki relaxed, looking slightly more reassured. “You’re right about that, at least. Just remember, keep Tatsuya’s dagger on you at all times, okay?”

“Of course. I always do—you know that.”

Heading out the door, I made my way to the still bustling marketplace. Picking up a few new rolls of bandages only took a few minutes, and I headed off to Watanabe’s bookshop. There wasn’t much, but I picked out a book on different martial arts techniques for Mitsuo and a book on rabbits for Rukia (she had some weird obsession with them). We weren’t that low on groceries, since I’d received a basket full of vegetables from a patient a few days ago, so mostly I just browsed around a bit, picking up a few snacks I thought the others would like. At just past eight, I headed off to the fringes of the red-light district to drop off some salves at one of the poorer brothels. I was just about to make my way back, when a commotion at the end of the street made me pause. Quietly making my way over, I stopped under the roof of a nearby building, where the shadows were slightly thicker. The vantage point wasn’t that great, but at least I was mostly concealed from sight.

The scene in front of me made me raise my eyebrows. Mai, one of the…bolder prostitutes I knew, was cornering a hooded figure against a wall. One of her hands had slipped under his robe and her chest was thrust out into his face. That…was pretty normal for Mai actually. The way her chosen target was stuttering and trying to shove her off was new though.

At a second glance, I could see why she’d chosen him. Though the quality of his clothes was poor and he was armed, it wasn’t hard to see from the way he stood and moved that he was well-bred. That his sword was hidden _under_ his robe spoke of his reluctance to hurt anyone, and the way he flinched every time his hands came anywhere close to Mai’s chest screamed ‘virgin.’ Honestly, I thought somewhat amused, he couldn’t have painted a bigger target on himself if he walked down the street naked with the words ‘easy prey’ tattooed on his forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, honey? I promise I’ll make it worth your time,” Mai was cooing. “I’ll teach you _so much._ Even give you a first-time discount! It’s not every day I see someone as adorable as you.”

“No—I’ve told you, I’m not interested. Miss, please remove your ha—wait, don’t touch there!” He squeaked. That voice…though currently high with embarrassment, I was almost positive it belonged to the Shinigami I’d rescued a few weeks ago. Shifting forwards a bit, I stared harder at him trying to catch a glimpse of his face. It didn’t help—the only thing I noticed was that it was an alarming shade of red. Taking a deep breath, while simultaneously shoving her other hand away from his crotch, he continued.

“I’ve told you, I just want you to help me find this girl.”

“Aww, so you’ve got a crush and you’re looking for someone to help you gain experience? Good choice,” Mai purred, “Chastity is overrated anyway. Every girl wants a man who knows what they’re doing.”

“No! That’s not what I meant! She saved my life, and I just wanted to--” He huffed, giving up on shoving Mai’s hands away. “Look, miss, she has purple eyes, short black hair, and goes around healing people. I’ve been asking around for _days_ and there’s no way _none of you_ have heard of her.”

 Well, there went any chance of him _not_ being the shinigami I’d met. I hesitated before stepping forward. Sure, he didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt Mai, but he was also getting angry and frustrated. Shinigami were dangerous and Mai had been putting herself on the line to protect me. He was looking for me; I couldn’t in good conscience just hide away and let Mai deal with him herself.

“You know,” I spoke up lightly, “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again, but I do admit, I hadn’t envisioned our next meeting happening quite like this.” Both Mai and the shinigami froze.

Mai recovered first and flung herself at me. “Sensei!” She said, squeezing me against her chest. Meanwhile, the shinigami seemed to be in shock. Turning to Mai, I offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll take it from here, Mai.” She pouted.

“Aww, and he was such a pretty one too! You’re so lucky, Sensei. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shinigami shudder and shift so that he was slightly behind me. Hiding my smile, I turned back to Mai. Her eyes were serious and level, and I shook my head, silently acknowledging the message hidden in her words. _Are you sure you’ll be okay alone with him? Just say the word and I’ll come with you._

“I’m quite sure.” She held my gaze for another moment before nodding firmly. Then, before either the shinigami or I could react, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed a giant, wet kiss to his cheek before skipping off cackling. “See you around, Sensei! And Pretty Boy! Hope it goes well!” She winked at him before blowing a kiss. He blanched, then began frantically wiping his face with his sleeve.

After watching the Shinigami continue scrubbing at his face for several seconds, I spoke up, careful to keep my growing amusement from showing. “This is the, what, second time I’ve had to rescue you now? Do try to be a bit more careful; I might not be around to save you a third time. What are you doing here anyway?”

Suddenly reminded of my presence, he jumped and winced sheepishly before seeming to remember himself and his face slipped back into its customary aristocratic expression. “My deepest apologies for my rudeness; please forgive my distraction.”  Turning to face me, he then sank into a formal bow. “I came to Inuzuri seeking your audience in order to extend my sincerest thanks for your kind assis--” I leveled a flat stare at him, cutting him off.

“Drop the formalities. I just saw you get groped; I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” Motioning for him to follow me, I began walking back down the street. “I’ve told you before, all I wanted in repayment was your silence on what really happened, particularly my part in the whole affair. As no shinigami have come tearing through Inuzuri demanding retribution, I’m pretty sure you’ve fulfilled your part of the deal. Consider us even, then.” When he looked about to protest, I shook my head. “Don’t. Look, here’s a bit of advice. Sometimes, when someone does something nice for you, just accept it. Don’t try to force repayment on them. Just thank them, remember what they did, and if the day comes when they need help themselves, pay them back then.” I let him think about what I said for a moment, before continuing.

“You said you’ve been here for days, and it’s getting late. Where are you staying?” I asked, looking up towards the sky. The sun had set a while ago; no doubt it was nearing nine, and as I didn’t want Mitsuo and Kazuki organizing a search party for me, I really should be back by then. A flash of embarrassment crossed over his face. “I started off staying in an inn, but after I woke up to find half my money missing after the first night, I’ve, ah…I’ve been camping in the woods using kido barriers as protection.” I stared at him for a long time, before whistling, slightly impressed. At least he didn’t seem to be one of those prissy nobles who could only fall asleep on silk sheets.

“At least you didn’t get all the way robbed. Come on, I’ll find you a decent inn where you can stay at. Don’t worry about getting robbed again; I’ll speak with the innkeeper to make sure you’re well taken care of.” I paused. “You know, I’ve met you twice and I still haven’t introduced myself.”

Sketching a short bow, I continued, “I’m Yukimura Hisana, though feel free to call me by my first name. Most people do.” Giving permission for people to call me by my first name, I’d found, fostered a sense of intimacy and trust between me and my patients. Eventually, it just became habit to ask people to call me Hisana. Next to me, the Shinigami returned my bow with a slight tilt of his own head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yukimura Hisana. My name is Kuchiki Byakuya.”

I tripped.  

 

* * *

 

Omake (How Kazuki and Renji first met)

As he quickly ducked under a table to prevent his target from sighting him, Kazuki vaguely wondered how he’d came to be in this situation. Honestly, he was hiding under a table while stal— _following_ Kaori around to make sure her date wouldn’t take advantage of her. Like any good big brother would. He didn’t have any ulterior motives at all. Really.

_Denial isn’t an attractive quality,_ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hisana said. _Hiding under a table like a creepy stalker? That’s a new low, even for you._ Scowling, Kazuki told the voice to shove it. Like the real Hisana would, the voice ignored him. _This wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just grow the balls to ask her out, you know._

“Quiet!” He hissed under his breath. Great, now he was talking to imaginary voices in his head. “They’re talking!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of kids walk by.

Peeking out from under the tablecloth, he scowled as he saw Kaori’s date—Taki-something, he’d never liked that guy—order a bottle of sake. Was he trying to get her drunk? Who started drinking alcohol this early anyway?

_Your hypocrisy is suffocating me,_ snorted imaginary-Hisana. Kazuki’s scowl deepened.

“Like you can lecture me on responsible behavior,” Kazuki retorted, “You run around at all hours of the night healing random thugs and criminals for _free._ ” Actually, now that he thought about it, it probably wasn’t a good sign that his inner voice of reason was modeled after an annoying, reckless midget who lost her common sense decades ago.

Next to him, one of the kids he’d seen earlier, a red headed brat about Rukia’s age, suddenly bumped into a waiter carrying an arm full of dishes. The kid fell to the floor, causing the red-bean paste cakes he’d hidden under his shirt to fall out. The owner marched over, red-faced with rage while the kid on the ground froze in terror. Inwardly, Kaori scoffed. Kids these days; amateurs, all of them. Even Hisana before Kaori’s lessons had known that when you were caught, the first thing you did was run. Just before the owner reached him, it seemed the kid’s survival instincts finally kicked in and he turned to make a break for it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking where he was going and crashed straight into the table Kazuki was hiding under, knocking it over before sprinting off. Kazuki froze as suddenly all eyes turned to him.

“Kazuki? What the hell are you doing here? And under a table?” Kaori asked confused. Next to her, Taki-bastard looked torn between glaring daggers at him or falling on his ass laughing. Sweating, he began chuckling nervously. “Hey, I know this looks pretty bad, but I can explain…honest…”

An excruciatingly awkward conversation with Kaori and an even worse lecture by (real) Hisana on why ‘hiding under tables creeping on people’ was not socially acceptable later, Kazuki laid down on his bed with a pillow held over his face, contemplating how his day had possibly turned out this shitty. Really, there was only one person to blame for all of this.

_I promise you,_ he thought savagely to the red-haired kid who’d single-handedly demolished his dignity, _the next time I see you, I will get my revenge. You will pay for this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing!


	6. Chapter 6

It’d been a while—decades actually—since I’d been caught off guard so completely, and I didn’t miss the feeling at all. For a moment, I could only stare dumbly at the stupidly-pretty figure in front of me. I felt like someone had hit me over the head with a fifty pound mallet.

Long black hair that he could actually pull off. Shinigami noble. Holier-than-thou attitude. How the hell had I not seen this coming?

Okay, granted, in the few moments I had contemplated Kuchiki Byakuya, I had always imagined him to be in his late twenties/early thirties, not as a semi-awkward eighteen year old. And somehow, I’d pictured him to be more…dignified. Not that he wasn’t proud, mind you, but I’d just seen him get molested by a prostitute. And…was he always this girly looking?

“Um,” I said eloquently. Byakuya raised an eyebrow, though I swore I caught a flash of amusement in his eyes. Bastard was enjoying this. “Uh…you…Kuchiki?” I got out finally, wincing internally. Kaori would kill me if she ever learned that I acted this stupid in front of a relative stranger. “As in, member of the aristocracy, Kuchiki?”

“My family is one of the five noble clans, yes,” he answered. “I take it you’ve heard of them then?”

I huffed at his condescending tone. “I think my reaction answered that question, Kuchiki-san.”

“Call me Byakuya. I just saw you almost trip into a wall—I think we’re past the formalities, don’t you?” He asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. I scowled, glancing up and…yup, sure enough there was a smirk playing around the corners of his lips.

“Very well, then, Byakuya-san.” I said, shoving down the brief flare of surprise I’d felt at the request. Even before I’d died a second time, I’d come to learn that the Japanese had a very formal culture, compared to America at least. The bowing, the honorifics…it was less evident in the slums, but calling someone by their first name was supposed to be a Big Deal. I didn’t have a problem with people calling me by my first name—partly due to leftover influence from my first life—but most people only called close relatives and friends by their given names.

“So what did you do to get permission to come here anyway? I somehow doubt your clan would be happy if you suddenly developed a habit for wandering around various shady places of the Rukongai.” Byakuya grimaced, as if reliving a deeply unpleasant memory.

“A…friend of mine managed to convince my grandfather that I needed some experience navigating the more rural areas of Soul Society. After all, there may be a time when it becomes necessary for a mission.”

I eyed him dubiously. “And they let you, a complete stranger to the area, come here alone and without backup?” What were they, mentally impaired? Byakuya may be a perfectly capable warrior and soldier, but there was a difference between being able to defend your life, and being able to defend your money/virtue/dignity. I had no doubt he could do the former, but the latter…well, the evidence spoke for itself. For a moment, Byakuya seemed almost sheepish, before muttering, “They did send me with a guard. Someone who grew up in the twelfth district of North Rukongai, I believe. I…shook him off somewhere in the thirtieth district.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have been much help anyway. The twelfth district is a bit too, shall we say, civilized for a resident from there to be an effective guide,” I mused. Well, this changed things. Originally, I was going to drop him off at a decent inn, reassure him yet again that he didn’t need to repay his debt, and send him off on his merry way. Now that I knew who he was, leaving him on his own in one of the worst districts of Rukongai didn’t sit well with me. At least with me, he’d be relatively safe.

I thought back to what little I remembered of the anime.  From what I recalled, Future-Byakuya was, to put it bluntly, a dick. Jesus fucking Christ, he was perfectly willing to let Rukia die just because she broke some bullshit law. Not to mention his disdain towards anyone from a lower social class…how the hell did he end up marrying the original Hisana anyway?

“Hisana-san? Are you alright?” Byakuya’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I blinked, realizing that I had been glaring at the ground for the past few minutes and looked up to see Byakuya’s tentative expression, hidden behind a veneer of calm. My shoulders slumped as all the indignation and anger drained out of me. It wasn’t fair to judge him based on who he _might_ become. Though Byakuya had that same pride and arrogance as I’d remembered in his future self, there was also a hint of uncertainty in his stance showing that no matter who he’d become, at the moment he was still a _kid._ Okay, an incredibly powerful fighter and accomplished heir of one of the top clans in Soul Society, but still a kid. Mostly.

Of course, even if I’d established that he wasn’t who he’d become in the future, that still left what I was going to do with him. The thing was, no matter what I’d said earlier, a debt from the scion of the Kuchiki clan could only come in handy, and I rather doubted he’d leave it alone anyway considering how much effort he’d put into finding me. And…no matter how much I hated to think about it, I knew that Rukia was going to become a shinigami. It was something I’d agonized over ever since Rukia had first shown her aptitude for fighting and her high reiatsu. By becoming a Shinigami, she would be putting herself in incredible danger—no matter how much things changed, there was always a chance that things could go wrong. She could end up a pawn in Aizen’s games, she could be killed by a hollow, and even if she survived everything that happened in the anime, well…the Gotei 13 had closets and closets full of skeletons. Eventually she was going to get caught up in something that she couldn’t handle, and what then?

 If I really wanted to, I probably could talk her out of going to the Seireitei. Rukia was nothing if not loyal, after all—it wouldn’t take too much to persuade her. But even knowing the risks…I couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop her from becoming a shinigami. Despite the danger, becoming a shinigami was the only real chance of getting out of the purgatory that was Rukongai life. She was always meant to leave, I knew that. When she was younger, it wasn’t such a problem; Inuzuri was big and I was always able to find something else to entertain her with. Then she bumped into a visiting shinigami. And ever since then…well, she hadn’t explicitly said anything to any of us. But sometimes, I’d find her staring out in the direction of Soul Society, her gaze riveted to the shining white tower with an expression of longing on her face. Her training with Mitsuo took on a new tone; she was gradually learning how to attack as well as defend herself now. She and Renji would have hushed conversations and their play fights became more serious. And sometimes, late at night, she’d crawl over to my futon and would talk about how someday, she’d like to own a house—a big one, with large gardens and a koi pond and lots of rabbits.

No, I wouldn’t stop her from becoming a shinigami. Part of me wanted her to stay, to protect her. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there are worse things than death. There would be no way that I could protect her if she left the relative safety of Inuzuri. But I would never be able to live with myself if I forced her to stay, where she would only fade away slowly. Taking away her chance at happiness, at living a better life, would be a crime I would never be able to live with.

I shook my thoughts away and smiled brightly at Byakuya. “I’m fine, I was just thinking. You know, I don’t live too far away and I’m sure you’re tired. If you want to, I could clear out a spare room for you to stay the night. The nearest quality inn is still quite a while away.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose…” He said, looking startled.

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. Besides, you’d attract less attention by staying with me.” I took a step back and eyed him critically. “I’ll just say something along the lines of you trying to pay off a debt to me—it’s not even really a lie. In the process, I can show you around Rukongai. It’s one of the reasons you came here, right?”

 “I…” He paused guiltily. “This really isn’t necessary, you’ve already done so much for me.”

“It’s fine, really.” I said. “You’d be doing me a favor too. See, I have a little sister who’s interested in becoming a shinigami.” I leaned back and ducked my head a bit, feigning embarrassment. “There’s only so many questions I can answer for her. I thought maybe you could give her a few tips, and in exchange I can show you how to not get robbed the next time you’re outside the Seireitei,” I finished cheekily. “Give and take, yeah?”

As expected, his eyes softened at the mention of my sister.

“I would like that,” he said quietly. In reply, I grabbed hold of his right sleeve and began tugging him in the direction of my house.

If I couldn’t protect Rukia myself when she became a shinigami, I’d just have to have someone else do it for me. In the original Bleach-verse, Byakuya had taken Rukia in due to obligation he felt towards his dead wife (who was me, and wasn’t that disturbing to think about?). I had no delusions that I would marry Byakuya—I wasn’t the Hisana he’d fallen for. Just because I had her face didn’t mean that we were the same person. Which meant that now I had to give Byakuya another reason, a better reason, to look out for Rukia. I mean part of the reason canon-Byakuya had done such a crap job of being a big brother was because he didn’t really know her and didn’t get to know her because he couldn’t bear to look at her face, which, yeah, kind of put a damper on the family bonding. I was hoping that if he got to know Rukia himself, and with the life-debt he owed to me, he’d do a better job of protecting her this time around. And even if this didn’t turn out as well as I hoped it would, well, some protection was better than no protection after all.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until I got home that I realized there were some aspects of my oh-so-brilliant plan that I hadn’t thought through. Namely, how the rest of my family would react.

“You know, Hisana, when I warned you about the possibly-dangerous shinigami asking around for you, _that wasn’t code for oh cool, let’s bring him home!_ ” Kazuki shouted. I winced sheepishly.

“I, too, would like to know the meaning of this,” Mitsuo said quietly. Kaori settled for glaring at Byakuya. His impassive, unimpressed face seemed to only make her angrier.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal. I got him out of a tight spot a couple weeks ago and he realized just how much he didn’t know about life outside the Seireitei and came back to learn. He offered to teach Rukia some kenjutsu and hand-to-hand combat in exchange for me teaching him a bit about how to get by in these parts. You’re overreacting.” I explained casually. It was the truth. Mostly.

“We don’t need--” Kazuki began, scowling distrustfully at Byakuya but I cut him off sharply.

“He’s a highly ranked Shinigami officer. Not only that, but he comes from a noble family, so he knows the politics and societal rules in the Seireitei. He has knowledge we don’t.” I paused, before letting some of my worry leak into my tone. “We all know that Rukia is going to be a shinigami someday. I just want to give her every advantage possible.”

As expected, Kazuki caved in like a house of straw. “Fine. We’ll continue this discussion later.” Turning to Byakuya, he gave him a grudging nod. “Don’t try anything funny,” he said, before leaving.

 Kaori gave me a hard look. “He’s your responsibility,” she bit out, before following him. Mitsuo lingered by the door.

“I won’t pretend to like this, Hisana. Miwa was one thing, but a shinigami?” He sighed, before giving me a weary smile. “I’ll trust your judgment on this though.” Turning to Byakuya, he bowed slightly.

“I’m Mitsuo. Hisana seems to think you’re a decent guy, so I’ll give you a chance.” He nodded slightly before heading out.

“Well,” I said in the sudden silence, “I think that went well, don’t you?”

“Your family is very…intense,” Byakuya said finally. I appreciated his tact.

“That’s one word for it,” I agreed, smiling wryly. “Would you like any tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” Heading into the kitchen, I pulled out the tea leaves I’d gotten as a gift last week from a merchant. It probably wasn’t up to the standard that Byakuya was used to but…fuck it, he spent the last two weeks camping out in the woods. He had no place to judge me.

“I’ll introduce you to Rukia tomorrow.” She was probably sleeping, given that she hadn’t come in and bombarded Byakuya with fifty thousand questions yet.

“Your sister?” He asked, as I began boiling the water.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Sorry about them. They’re a bit uneasy around outsiders.”

“Understandable. They’re your family, you said?” Byakuya questioned.

“Yeah. Kazuki—the loud, grumpy one—is like a brother to me. Kaori’s a bit scary, but in an awesome way. And Mitsuo’s the most reasonable one out of all of us.”

“Are you all blood related?” He asked curiously.

“God, no.” I laughed. “I get that things are a bit different in the Soul Society, but most people here don’t have enough reiatsu to have a child. Almost all the families here form through adoption. Rukia’s the only one I’m actually related to through blood.” I took the water off the stove. “Blood related families are really rare—it’s pretty hard to find family members after you die. God knows that I haven’t got a clue where my parents are, or how they ended up, and I have more connections than most.”

“How did you find Rukia then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 I paused, before shrugging and deciding to answer. I’d had over half a century to get over my death and it wasn’t like it was some big secret of mine.

“We died together. Tsunami, you know? I took Rukia and tried to run, but I’d realized what the signs were too late.” I laughed hollowly. “We didn’t stand a chance.”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t-I didn’t mean to bring up such an insensitive subject,” he stammered, eyes wide. Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes at him and ducked my head to hide a fond smile. Christ, the man was adorable. Seriously, how the heck did he manage to grow up into such a douchebag?

“Relax, Byakuya-san. It happened decades ago. I’m over it. I’m just thankful that Rukia and I ended up in the same place, really.”

“How do you stand remembering it?” He sounded upset. “ _How_ do you remember it? Soul Society is supposed to be a fresh start.”

“You know, I’ve asked that question a few times myself. How do I remember my previous life?” _Both times,_ I thought. “At first, I thought it had something to do with my relatively high reiatsu levels. Don’t look surprised, you know that I can do healing kido. Anyway, after a while I realized that that isn’t it. After dying, everyone wakes up in Soul Society remembering their past lives. Perhaps not perfectly, but well enough. It has nothing to do with reiatsu levels.” I was quiet for a moment. “It’s more…it’s as you said, Soul Society is supposed to be a fresh start. You have to understand, Byakuya-san…when you die, you wake up with _nothing._ You’re torn away from your family, your friends, your job, your _life_. It doesn’t matter who you were before; death makes all men equal. Maybe at first you try to look for family members, loved ones, but unless you get really lucky, you don’t succeed. After that, it just becomes easier to…forget, than to remember everything you’ve lost. Human memory isn’t perfect, you know. And as the years pass by, it becomes easier and easier to let go.”

“So how do you stand remembering?” He asked. I was quiet for a moment. Tatsuya…Tatsuya had asked me that once. I gave Byakuya the same answer I gave him.

“Memories make up who you are. Where does the past exist, after all, but in memories?” I fingered the edge of my teacup absentmindedly. “I guess part of the reason I remember is because Rukia deserves someone to tell her stories of our parents, to pass on their love to her. The other part is necessity. I made a choice long ago to take care of Rukia to the best of my ability and to give her the upbringing she deserved. If I don’t even know who I am, how could I possible hope to take care of her?”

“You’re a good sister,” he said after another pause.

“I try,” I said, one side of my lips quirking up. “Besides, don’t be so quick to compliment me. You haven’t even seen me with Rukia yet.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“From what I’ve seen, somehow I doubt you’re doing too badly.”

“You flatter me, really,” I snorted. “Come on, I’ll get you settled in the guest room. It’s nothing special—none of the silk sheets I’m sure you’re used to—but it beats camping out in the woods.”

 

* * *

 

As designated cook of the family, I was usually the first one up in the morning. Which was why, as I quietly made my way to the kitchen to heat up some porridge, I was surprised to see Kaori already there.

“I’m not going to say anything against your decision to bring the shinigami here. I understand your reasons, and even support them to an extent. I want Rukia to succeed just as much as you do. Not to mention that anyone with eyes can tell that the shinigami has no intention of harming you.” She stared at me intently. “That’s not to say that I like it. Rukia was always going to become a shinigami, we’ve all known that for years even though Kazuki still denies it. She’ll become one of them, and will have their protection. You though?” Kaori shook her head. “A civilian getting involved with a shinigami is dangerous. Especially one so politically important.”

I eyed her with confusion. “Kaori, I understand that you distrust shinigami. I don’t exactly trust the majority of them either. But you have no problem with Rukia becoming a shinigami and you already said that you don’t think Byakuya would hurt us. What’s the problem then?” Kaori rolled her eyes in frustration.

“It’s not your pet shinigami that I have a problem with! It’s his family! He’s a goddamn Kuchiki, Hisana! You really think his family is going to be happy about him gallivanting around the slums with some random Rukongai girl?” I flinched, but didn’t back down.

“You’re reading too much into this. God, you make it sound like we’re having some secret illicit affair or something.”

“You think his family is gonna care? Since you told me he didn’t tell anyone about the whole you-saving-his-life thing, all they’re going to see is him making excuses to head out into Rukongai for no good reason.” She asked, but softened her tone. “Just…be careful, alright? Don’t get too close to him.”

“Kaori, relax. It’s not like I’m planning on falling in love with him,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s all. He gets to learn how to function in regular society and gets to work off any lingering obligation he feels towards me. I get a tutor for Rukia and free manual labor for the next few weeks, or however long he’s staying. That’s it. No seduction schemes, long term marriage plans, or whatever else your paranoid head has come up with.” Kaori sent me an unamused look.

“Make sure you keep it that way and we’ll have no issues then.”

 

* * *

 

Mitsuo took one look at my scowling face as I handed him his breakfast and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, someone’s in a bad mood today.” He teased gently. When I only glared at him, his expression changed to one of concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” I barely resisted pulling my hair in frustration. “Kaori spoke to me earlier.” Understanding diffused over Mitsuo’s face.

“Ah. I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” I smiled wryly.

“Look, I get that bringing a guy home is kind of…abnormal for me,” I began.

“That’s an understatement,” Mitsuo muttered under his breath, causing me to shoot him a glare. He hid his grin behind his teacup, and against my will I felt the corners of my mouth pulling up.

“Shut up, you big jerk.” I grumbled halfheartedly.

“You know I can’t help it. The last time you brought a guy home, it was only because his guts were spilling out and you didn’t think you could get him to the clinic fast enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub my abysmal love life in my face. You can’t exactly talk,” I shot back.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve gotten tons of offers. It’s not my fault every time I bring one home, you guys scare them off.” I gave him my best unimpressed look.

“In the decades I’ve known you, you’ve brought home exactly three girls. And if they couldn’t handle a little blood, or Kaori on her period, or Rukia on a sugar rush, or Kazuki being Kazuki, then they don’t deserve you.” Mitsuo stared at me blandly.

“Hisana, when I introduced you to Chie, your hands were _still dripping in blood_ from performing surgery. I’ve known Kaori for over a century, and _I_ still get terrified of her when it’s that time of the month. She was _chasing Kazuki around the house with an ax --_ ”

“Yeah, having sex with one of his many girlfriends on her bed was a pretty stupid idea. I mean there’s absolute idiocy, and then there’s Kazuki,” I said, wincing at that particular memory.

“ –so yeah, that scared away Fumiko pretty quickly. And Rukia threw adopted bunny #5 at Junko’s face, when Junko was _allergic to rabbits._ ”

“Hey, don’t blame Rukia for that!” I said indignantly on Rukia’s behalf. “How was she supposed to know Jun-Jo-Jank—Girlfriend #3 was allergic to rabbits?” Mitsuo leveled me with another unimpressed stare.

“Rukia might not have known… _but you did._ ” He said grumpily.

“Ah…ha…ha,” I chuckled weakly. But hey, it wasn’t like I was the only one who might have participated in a little…friendly sabotage. I knew for a fact that the ax thing was staged, and out of all her pet rabbits Rukia might have chosen, she chose Bunny #5—aka psycho-claw bunny—to chuck at Girlfriend #3’s face. And it wasn’t like Mitsuo was completely innocent either. The second time Kaori brought a boyfriend home, he’d volunteered to help me cook dinner and had ‘accidentally’ dumped a whole can of chili powder into the guy’s soup.

“Anyway, don’t try to deflect the conversation towards me. I know that you said that this was only the second time you met Kuchiki-san, but do you understand now why Kaori might have misinterpreted your relationship with him?”

“Yeah,” I said glumly. Because I did, really. Last night, in my shock at finding out that mystery Shinigami was actually _Kuchiki-freaking-Byakuya_ , I’d forgotten one of the many unsaid rules of our household. Making friends outside of our little group of people was fine, but bringing someone home was tantamount to inviting them into the family—assuming they met everyone’s approval, that is. Either way, it was a pretty serious declaration of commitment for us. By extending a dinner invitation to Miwa, I was offering her a place in my home. When Rukia dragged Renji home and declared him her best friend, she was also saying _he’s like a brother to me, treat him as you would me._ The rules for romantic partners was a bit different; as proved with Mitsuo, it was like saying _Ok, I’m pretty serious about him/her,_ but for everyone else, it was practically an invitation to test their worth, for lack of a better way to phrase it. My moment of introspection was broken by Rukia heading down the stairs.

“Hey, nee-chan, why is there a strange man sleeping in the guest room?” She asked puzzled. I groaned and slapped a hand to my forehead as Mitsuo smirked and toasted me with his teacup before sauntering out.

“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled. “He’s someone who owed me a favor and he needed a place to crash.” Rukia still looked confused.

“Yeah, lots of people owe you favors, but why is he staying _here?_ ” She asked, emphasizing the ‘here’ meaningfully.

“It’s not what you think,” I began hastily. Seriously, it was awkward enough that a different version of me had been Byakuya’s wife in another universe; I so did not need half of my family thinking we were dating in this one. “Really, it’s just that he’s a shinigami and is absolutely hopeless when it comes to trying to live here. I really did bring him here because he had nowhere else to go.” As expected, Rukia’s eyes lit up at the word shinigami.

“Really? He’s a shinigami? That’s so cool! Do you think he’d answer a few of my questions? Maybe help me out with my swordplay, so that the next time I see Renji-baka I can totally kick his ass, we’ll see who’s a sissy _now_ – “

“Rukia,” I said, halting her train of words, feeling faintly amused. “Slow down now, he’s already agreed to help you out. How did you think he was going to be paying me back?” Her eyes widened and a huge grin broke across her face.

“You got him to agree to teach me?” She squealed. “Oh my god, nee-chan, you’re seriously, like, the best sister ever, just you wait, I’m going to be the best shinigami you’ve ever seen – “ Her words broke off abruptly as she realized what she said. “Uh, I mean, I’m going to be the best swordswoman the world has ever seen, yeah.”

“Calm down, Rukia. You really think we didn’t know about you wanting to be a shinigami?” I rolled my eyes. “Give us some credit here.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked, voice small. “I mean, Kazuki-nii is always going on about how shinigami are giant jerks who overcompensate with their giant swords.”

“I think I’m going to need to have another ‘talk’ with your Kazuki-nii,” I muttered before smiling gently at Rukia. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to become a shinigami. My main issue with you becoming one is that you’ll be in danger. I won’t lie, I hate the thought of you not being safe and being where I can’t protect you. But if that’s what you really want to do, I won’t stop you.” Rukia’s eyes were turning suspiciously shiny, and I coughed uncomfortably. The problem with family, I thought sourly, was that it was really hard to maintain your dignity around people who’d already seen you at your worst. It was a miracle that the calm, collected, reliable, polite persona I adopted amongst most of Inuzuri’s citizens hadn’t died a fiery death years ago. I handed Rukia a bowl of still-hot rice porridge along with some broiled fish and pickles.

“Here, would you mind taking this up to our guest? I’m not quite sure what time he’ll be waking up.”

“There’s no need,” a smooth voice came from behind me. I looked up to see Byakuya looking at me with an unreadable expression. It had to be some kind of hereditary aristocrat talent, I decided, to be able to pull off that cool, prideful aura while dressed in little more than a potato sack. Rukia looked equally as impressed, judging from the landed fish impression she was doing.

I nodded to him. “Byakuya-san. I trust you slept well?” I took away the dishes Rukia was holding before she dropped them, while surreptitiously closing her mouth. “Don’t want you to catch flies, imouto. And don’t gape; it’s not polite to stare.” She blushed, though dropped her gaze.

“I can’t help it, nee-chan!” She whispered fiercely to me. “He’s…he looks like a freaking princess!” There was a long silence, and judging from the intense stare I could feel on the back of my neck, there was no way that Byakuya hadn’t heard that. Rukia looked mortified. I didn’t dare turn around; life debt or no, I had no doubt that if I burst out laughing then, not only would Rukia never forgive me, Byakuya would probably skewer me with his zanpakuto.

After taking several deep breaths, I slowly turned to face Byakuya, carefully not looking at his expression.

“Byakuya-san,” my voice shook slightly-- _do not start laughing, he will turn you into a Hisana-kabob, you do not want that on your epitaph—_ “This is my sister, Rukia. Imouto, this is Kuchiki Byakuya.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rukia mumbled under her breath, sketching a quick bow.

“Pleasure,” he answered back. Both Rukia and I winced at his icy tone.

“Rukia, why don’t you go spend the day with Renji? I’ll show Byakuya-san around town; get him acquainted with the area.” Rukia nodded, glad to have an excuse to escape. As soon as she was out the door, I lifted my head to finally meet his gaze, keeping my own expression carefully neutral. He scowled at me.

“Not another word,” he ground out through gritted teeth. I nodded, handing him his breakfast.

“As you wish,” I said, lips curling up into a gleeful smirk, “Byakuya-hime.”

 

* * *

 

Omake: The First Time Tatsuya Saw Hisana

Tatsuya hummed cheerfully to himself as he ducked down a narrow side-street behind a bar, a short cut that would make his trip home ten minutes shorter. Kaori recently had a very successful ‘shopping’ trip, so he could expect her to be in a reasonably good mood for at least a couple days. Maybe she’d even consent to making him onigiri—she was the only one besides Mitsuo who could cook well enough that her food, while not exactly delicious, was at least palatable.

A quiet whimper caught his attention. Turning around, he frowned in irritation at the all-too-familiar sight. A man—probably a member of one of the more minor yakuza gangs—was leering down at the cowering figure of a young woman, who had her back against the wall and was looking up fearfully. Inwardly, Tatsuya scoffed, debating to himself whether or not he should step in. On the one hand, the girl didn’t even look to be in her teens yet. She didn’t have that world-weary, resigned look to her that all Rukongai inhabitants developed sooner or later, so he’d wager that she was new to this life too. On the other, well…

“Please, mister, don’t hurt me! Please…I’ll do anything, just…just leave me alone.” The girl’s voice cracked near the end before trailing off. Even at this distance, Tatsuya could see her shoulders hunching in and he imagined he could see them shaking.

“Aw, come on, little kitten. I promise I’ll be gentle. Here, you’ll need to be broken in sooner or later, and if you please me, I swear that I’ll make it good for you too. Give and take, yeah? I’ll even drop you a bit of cash.” He said, his reassuring grin not quite masking the lustful stare he was giving her body.

Tatsuya turned away with a noise of disgust, averting his eyes from the pitiful sight in front of him. While he didn’t like pedophiles, he hated weakness even more. And the stupid girl was practically inviting him to rape her, with the way she was just standing there shivering, staring up at her attacker with wide eyes, pleading with him, kneeing him in the balls…

Wait, what?

He did a double take, mouth hanging wide open as he watched the petite, delicate-looking _child_ who probably weighed sixty pounds soaking wet viciously jerk up her knee to hit her two-hundred pound assaulter right in the groin. As he doubled over in pain cursing, she reached inside her yukata and withdrew a brick—a _brick_ of all things, what the hell—and brought it down _hard_ on her assaulter’s temple. He crumpled like a sack of rocks. She then began methodically stripping her assaulter-turned-victim of anything valuable on his body, including his coat, money, two daggers and a short sword, and very deliberately stomped on his face before exiting the alley. Tatsuya thought he might have also heard her mutter something along the lines of “Thanks for the loot, you sick, pedophilic, warthog-faced son of a diseased Billy goat,” before leaving.

“What’s up with you?” Horio asked later that night. “What, did one of the girls you were flirting with turn out to be a cross-dressing man in disguise again?” Tatsuya snapped out of his daze long enough to glare at him.

“That was one time!” He squawked, before getting up and moving over to where Mitsuo was sitting. The company would be less irritating there at least. Mitsuo raised an eyebrow, silently questioning Tatsuya on his thoughtful mood. “Horio has a point. You have been strangely…preoccupied all evening.”

“It’s nothing much. Just saw something that surprised me today.” Tatsuya replied, leaning back into his chair. “Say, Mitsuo…what would you think of me adding another member to our group?”

“Oh? He must be something else if he can catch your attention. You’re not one to be easily impressed.” Mitsuo said thoughtfully.

“It’s a she. And yeah, she’s a spirited one. A little spitfire,” Tatsuya grinned, thinking back to the way she’d first duped her attacker before robbing him blind. She’d had even him fooled with her little act, really.

“Well, if you approve, I have no objections.” Mitsuo said before falling silent again.

It might not come to anything, Tatsuya acknowledged to himself. But thinking back to the flash of steel he’d seen in her eyes, he couldn’t help but think that there was potential there. At the very least, it was worth keeping an eye on her. It wasn’t often that he saw such strength in someone of her age, after all. It’d be…interesting, to witness the kind of person she’d grow into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing :)


	7. Chapter 7

Interlude from Chapter 4

He was kidnapped. He, Kuchiki Byakuya, heir and pride of the Kuchiki clan, fourth seat of the 6th division, was  _freaking kidnapped_  while his captors were currently debating whether or not to kill him or ransom him off. To add insult to injury, he was being held in the basement of an abandoned warehouse of all places, his captors consisted of a couple low life thugs he should have been able to defeat blindfolded with both hands tied behind his back, and a short, fat pathetic-looking middle aged man who, given the massive amounts of gaudy, poor-quality gold jewelry he was wearing, looked like he was seriously overcompensating for something.

Byakuya didn't think he'd ever been so humiliated in his life.

"Found him at the edges of the forest. Looked like a hollow attack. The rest of 'em were dead. He was alive, barely, and we thought he'd fetch a nice little price. He still managed to put up a hell of a fight, though," one of the men was explaining to Oshiro-something-or-the-other. Byakuya ruthlessly pushed down the wave of grief that swelled inside him and focused on his anger. He hadn't really expected them to survive after they'd gotten separated but…there'd be time for mourning later. Grief wouldn't help anyone right now. "Where's Sensei anyway? These cuts hurt and Ueno over there looks like he's gonna keel over soon."

"If you didn't decide to do something so stupid, you wouldn't be hurt in the first place, so suck it up!" Oshiro yelled. Gods help him, his voice was causing Byakuya more pain than the rest of his injuries put together. "Look at the situation you've forced me into! I can't let him go; the second I do, he'll lead the rest straight to us. Can't bribe him, either, since he had more pocket money on him than I see in a month. Can't let him go…but what do I do with him? If I kill him…but what if they come looking for him?"

This wasn't good. Any shinigami worth their zanpakuto knew that the more desperate an enemy became, the more dangerous they were. Feeling the first stirrings of panic begin to settle in his gut, Byakuya decided to speak up, hoping fervently that a threat would knock some sense back into the idiot.

"If you kill me, my family will never let this go. They will hunt down every last one of you." And then his jii-sama would find some way of resurrecting him and would probably kill him again, painfully, for bringing such shame to the Kuchiki clan. At least he felt some measure of peace in knowing that his family would avenge his death. None of the bastards here would escape their retribution. Oshiro scowled, leaning forward so his face was right in front of Byakuya's. His breath smelled of cheap sake and putrid fish. Byakuya grimaced slightly, doing his best to lean back.

"Oh yeah? But the dead have no way of talking, and even the shinigami can't read minds. They'd never be able to prove I did it." He said, holding a knife just under Byakuya's chin, and there was a savage, cruel satisfaction in his voice. No doubt drunk on the sense of power he felt in having a shinigami, and one of considerably high rank at that, more or less at his mercy. Glaring, Byakuya raised his face higher, refusing to be intimidated by someone of Oshiro's like. Death…was something he could accept. Giving in to this pathetic worm of a man? He could threaten to kill him a million times, and Byakuya still wouldn't fear him.

"Oshiro-sama, you called for me?" a soft voice interrupted from the front of the room. Both Byakuya and Oshiro startled slightly—neither had noticed anyone else come in. Recognition flashed in Oshiro's eyes, and a wide, leering grin split his face as he stood up again. A few seconds later, Byakuya realized it was supposed to be an attempt at a gentlemanly, courteous smile. He closed his eyes briefly in disgust, before turning to study the petite figure standing next to the door.

The first thing he noticed was how… _out of place_  she looked here, in a filthy warehouse surrounded by men who'd lost all honor decades ago. Back straight, posture poised and chin lifted in an almost unconscious gesture of superiority, he'd met nobles who couldn't match her dignity.  _You can learn a lot about a person just by the way they stand,_  his grandfather had said once. The girl in front of him wore confidence like a cloak, her manner demanding respect. Which, for someone who looked like she barely topped five feet, weighed about ninety pounds and was barely past her teens, was rather impressive.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, large violet eyes flitting around the room before briefly meeting his own. Her voice was low, cool and faintly detached, lacking any hint of actual curiosity. In fact, he hadn't seen her show any surprise since entering the room. Her calm serenity could almost match Unohana's.

"Ah, Sensei," Oshiro simpered. "As you can see, a bit of trouble has come up, but it's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about. I do apologize for taking up your time, but a few of my members have gotten into a bit of a skirmish. If you don't mind?"

"No need to apologize, Oshiro-sama. It is always a pleasure to be of help." Byakuya had to applaud her control. That smile looked almost genuine. A brief look of concentration crossed her face before her hands lit up with a  _very_  familiar green glow. Byakuya jolted, eyes widening. There was no doubt that it was healing kido, he thought as he watched her slowly stitch together a rather deep stab wound on one of his attackers. At least now he knew why she was referred to by such a respectful title, and why she was so at ease with criminals four times her size. Her specialized skill set probably afforded her some measure of protection.

The real question was, how the hell was she able to use it in the first place? You needed more than high levels of reiatsu and control to be able to use it; you also needed an intimate knowledge of the human body and a vivid imagination. Byakuya himself could only manage the most basic of healing kido, so how did a woman in one of the poorest districts of Rukongai learn it?

Though as he watched, it became evident she wasn't quite as skilled as the members of the Fourth Division. Though quite efficient with her use of reiatsu, her use of it leaned more towards 'just-repair-enough-to-keep-someone-alive' than any degree of real sophistication. Most of the wounds would later scar and she used several salves in conjunction with her reiatsu. Several times Byakuya felt himself drifting off into unconsciousness, though each time he stubbornly fought against the wave of dizziness and exhaustion. Now wasn't the time to fall asleep, serious concussion be damned.

For the thousandth time in the last hour, he cursed the hollow that had gotten a lucky hit in, striking him hard in the ribs (likely breaking more than a few in the process) and sending him flying through the air into a tree. He'd briefly blacked out and when he came to, several thugs were rooting through his clothes for money. He'd managed to knock two out, and seriously injure another, but he'd been suffering from a serious concussion and reiatsu depletion at the time, and the fourth had knocked Senbonzakura out of his hand while he'd been fighting nausea and had whacked the back of his already-concussed head with the hilt of his sword—which normally wouldn’t have caused much damage had he not already been wounded there. The next thing he knew, he woke up tightly bound in this godforsaken warehouse with the man who probably inspired the cliché for 'incompetent villain' looming over him.

"What of the shinigami, Oshiro-sama?" The same calm tone asked with mild interest, snapping Byakuya out of his thoughts.

"Rest assured, Sensei, he will be taken care of. Thank you again for your services," Oshiro replied dismissively. To Byakuya's surprise, the girl hesitated.

"If I may offer a suggestion?" She asked. "Disposing of him as he is might be…unwise." The pause between her words was the only sign of her trepidation at speaking out. Without waiting for Oshiro's anger to set in, she added on, "If I may, I have another idea. I presume that your men found him after a hollow attack?" Oshiro nodded and she continued. "If he were killed by you, no doubt the Shinigami would investigate his disappearance. Should they discover his death, they would most certainly seek retribution. Even if they don't discover your hand in it, Oshiro-sama, you could be caught in the backlash of his family's anger. For him to die by the hand of a Rukongai citizen would invite all of Seireitei's anger. However, if he were to have died, in, say, a hollow attack…" she trailed off meaningfully, and Byakuya stopped listening as he grasped the point she was making. The nausea he'd felt from before returned with a vengeance.

It could work, he realized as he watched the deceptively-harmless looking girl plan out his death with the same nonchalance as someone talking about the weather. His family would grieve, but all of the evidence would point towards him being killed by hollows along with the rest of his team. No one would have a reason to question further.

"Sensei, could you make it appear as if he was killed by a hollow?" Byakuya lifted his head at Oshiro's question, his oily voice now tainted with a hint of relief. The girl tilted her chin slightly to the side, an innocent smile crossing her face.

"My dear Oshiro," she chided, cruel amusement flashing through her eyes. For the first time, Byakuya thought he might understand how a slip of a girl with no formal combat training could hold her own against men three times her size. "I am a professional. To fake the cause of death would be child's play."

A wide smile spread over Oshiro's face. "I knew that there was a reason I liked you, Sensei," he said cheerfully.

"You flatter me," she said softly, the dangerous edge to her voice vanishing as if it had never existed. "I only require some help to get the shinigami to the place of the hollow attack, and his sword." When he hesitated, she raised an eyebrow slightly. "Surely you don't expect for his family to believe he died without his sword, do you?" Byakuya watched as Oshiro's mouth twisted, before shoving Senbonzakura roughly into the girl's hands. Turning to two of his goons, he barked out, "Well, you idiots heard her. Take the shinigami to where you found him, and help Sensei out with anything she needs."

With that, Byakuya found himself roughly hauled to his feet, one of the men behind him shoving his head forward harshly. Clenching his teeth, Byakuya barely bit back a gasp as one of his ribs shifted painfully.

"I'll just leave everything to you then, Sensei?" Oshiro asked, clasping a hand on the girl's shoulder, before heading out with his remaining guards. For a moment, something flashed across the girl's face, though it was gone before Byakuya could make out what it was. "I live to serve." She murmured, ducking her head down for a brief second, before gesturing briskly for the men holding Byakuya to proceed.

The walk back to the forest was nothing short of torture. By this point, Byakuya would be happy if he never saw this godforsaken district again…a very real possibility at this point, he conceded. Several times he thought he might have blacked out briefly despite his best efforts and only came back to reality when he was shoved roughly against a fallen tree trunk.

"That will be all, thank you." Byakuya looked up to find the girl watching him with an inscrutable expression, feeling a bit surprised. Severely injured and restrained or not, there weren't many civilians who'd feel comfortable being alone in the presence of an enemy shinigami. If he managed to escape his bounds, his injuries wouldn't prevent him from killing her. His captors seemed to agree, exchanging uneasy looks. When they started to protest, however, she turned to them with a smile just a touch too sharp to be comforting.

"Unless you'd like to watch?" She asked, her voice like the finest silk barely hiding sharp steel. Byakuya found that despite himself, even he couldn't blame them for taking a step back before running away with their tails tucked between their legs.

She watched the two run off with satisfaction coloring her features, before slipping out a small dagger out from inside her yukata. It was a beautiful weapon, meticulously cared for, and she looked at it with an inscrutable expression.

"You don't know much about hollows if you think you can recreate hollow-induced injuries with that tiny knife," Byakuya couldn't resist saying, inserting as much disdain as he could muster into his tone. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but her silence was unnerving him almost as much as her previous threat to kill him. He'd known since before becoming a shinigami that he could very well die any day, but that didn't mean he wanted it dragged out. Anything was better than this slow, nerve-wracking suspense.

One side of her mouth quirked up, though she maintained her silence. She knelt down next to him, so close that he could feel her breath brushing against her face. Byakuya swallowed and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the slice of steel through his jugular. Somewhat hysterically, he wished fervently that his grandfather wouldn't let Yoruichi speak at his funeral. The damage that would do to his dignity would probably follow him into his next life. He felt more than saw the knife rise up, heard the swish of the blade as it slashed back down…cutting straight through the ropes binding his hands together.

For a moment, Byakuya could only stare dumbly at his now freed hands, the strands of rope falling uselessly to the ground. Then his brain caught up to what was happening and he shoved himself away, mouth gaping like a beached fish. A small voice in the back of his head, one that sounded suspiciously like his grandfather, reprimanded him for his loss of composure. The much larger part of himself, the one still in shock over his continued survival, told that voice to shove it.

"What…why…you were just about to kill me!" He shouted. No, that wasn't quite right. Now that his mind wasn't fogged with panic, he could see the subtle glint of amusement in his captor's?—savior's?—eyes.

"Contrary to how it might look, I am not, actually, in the habit of killing people in cold blood." She said, ironic humor tinting her voice.

"But why? You could have gotten away with it…probably," Byakuya blurted out before he could stop himself.

"It is nice to know that you have a higher opinion of my intelligence than you do of Oshiro's," she answered wryly. Byakuya winced. "And as for why? Why not? I told Oshiro that I'm a professional—well, I'm a healer. I don't like seeing people get hurt for no reason, especially when I can prevent it." He could tell that she wasn't telling him everything, but decided drop it. Her reasons weren't that important to him anyway.

"I could have killed you," Byakuya felt the need to point out. He was still bewildered over the whole potential-killer-turned-savior thing. This time she actually rolled her eyes.

"You have a mild concussion, are suffering from blood loss, have seriously damaged ribs, and your breathing is impaired." Well, there went any of Byakuya's doubt about her being a competent healer. "I seriously doubt you'd go to the effort of trying to harm me when you're so injured and I just saved your life. And I was right, wasn't I? We've been talking for five minutes and you haven't reached for your sword once." With a start, Byakuya tried to sit up, reaching for Senbonzakura, only to have his…savior hand it to him with a knowing look.

"Anyway, it's getting late. I can't do much for your injuries right now, but I'll leave some of these bandages with you. If I'm correct, you shinigami have your own way of contacting help, correct?" She stood up, clearly eager to leave.

Byakuya nodded. "I can summon a Jigokucho to get back up. There’s another squad a couple districts away." It’d take them a few hours to get here, but he could wait.

He hesitated before adding, "I…if there's anything I can do for you…I'm in your debt." And it was true. If it hadn't been for her…well, he doubted he'd still be alive right now. As a Kuchiki, he'd been taught to honor debts of any kind. Life debts even more so. He would honor any request that wouldn't bring harm to either Soul Society or his clan.

"If you want to repay me, don't come back seeking retribution on Oshiro." She said firmly. Seeing Byakuya's involuntary scowl, she held up a hand.

"Don't. If it got out that I helped you, things could get difficult for me. My neutrality is what keeps me safe most of the time, and it gives me a bit of leeway in dealing with certain people. If anyone finds out that I violated that…" Byakuya paused, before deciding to let it go. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for someone who went out of her way to help him. It wasn't his place to argue with her about his debt. Judging from the stubborn look in her eyes, she'd view any further attempt to push the matter as charity, or worse, pity.

"I don't like it—people like Oshiro should be punished. But if that is your wish, I will abide by it." Byakuya said finally. She smiled then, the first real smile he'd seen from her. Leaning forward, she brushed his hair back from his face. Byakuya didn't think he imagined the faint tingle of healing kido and the slight lessening of pain in his head as she did so. A touch of wistful melancholy entered her eyes, and Byakuya found himself wanting to erase that expression. Sadness didn't suit her.

With a soft sigh, she leaned away, standing up and turning back towards the village. Just before she reached the edge of the clearing, she paused. "Take care of yourself then, yeah? Don't let all my hard work go to waste."

"I will," he found himself promising.

* * *

 

Omake:

Byakuya sat at his desk, frowning down at the report he had to fill out. Every misconduct in the ranks had to be properly documented, of course, so it wasn't the tedium of filling out the paperwork that disturbed him. Earlier this morning, he'd come across two of his men—lower ranked seated officers—harassing one of the new recruits. If he remembered correctly, her name was Nakano Rin, one of the more promising upcoming kido specialists in the 6th division. The soon-to-be-demoted shinigami had her crowded against a wall and Byakuya had stepped in before things could go further. After he'd delivered a stern lecture to the idiots and sent the cowards scurrying away with their tails between their legs, he'd turned to the girl and asked if she was alright. She'd promptly scowled and glared at him, stating firmly that she could've handled it herself, thank you very much. He'd followed her to make sure the morons from before wouldn't come back. She'd taken that about as well as expected. Their conversation went something like this:

"Look, I know you nobles have some twisted sense of chivalry and shit and you all seem to think that women need to be coddled and have no place swinging around a sword, but I assure you,  _I am fine."_

"Not at all. I have spent far too much time with Shihouin-taicho to operate under any such assumptions that women are weak."

"If that is the case,  _Kuchiki-sama,_ why are you still following me?! Some might call this stalking." She grumbled, lacing the honorific with a heavy amount of sarcasm.

"Is it so wrong to express concern for one of the shinigami under my command? And are you really one to comment on my manners? Most people would have thanked me."

"Well, it's unlucky for you that I'm not 'most people' then, isn't it?" She sped up, perhaps hoping that would discourage him. When it didn't, Rin spoke up again resignedly. "Look, I appreciate the…concern, I really do. But seriously, I'm fine. I've been through a lot, I can handle it."

"You mean…you've had worse," Byakuya murmured. He felt a chill inside; logically, he knew that sexual assault existed in the ranks and that not every incident was caught but it never became easier hearing about it.

"You think…no, I didn't mean  _here._  God, it's not like I get groped every other day. It's just…I'm from the Rukongai." Rin gave Byakuya a meaningful look. He didn't get it. She must have seen the confusion in his expression because she rolled her eyes.

"Are all nobles this naïve? Seriously, it's like explaining sex to an eight year old. I'm from the  _Rukongai._  Fifty-sixth district to be exact. Practically every woman who's lived there for a couple decades has been, well, if not forced, then  _coerced_  into doing something she hasn't fully wanted to do. And don't look at me like that; I'm not going to break down from just  _talking_  about it. It's just how things are." She'd turned to face him then, eyes hard and jaw clenched, practically daring him to say something about it. "We're almost at the barracks now. Thank you very much for the escort, but I think it's time we both return to our duties," Rin said curtly, before walking off.

Turning back to his paperwork, Byakuya thought about what truly disturbed him about Rin's words. The way she'd just brushed off a possible sexual assault was…unsettling, and he couldn't stop his thoughts from turning to the stranger who'd risked her own wellbeing to help him. Try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about the encounter from a week ago. Byakuya was used to people aiding him for a variety of reasons: his lineage, his money, his prestige, hell, half the people did what he wanted because they were too afraid not to. For someone to aid him, and then refuse payment afterward…well, it was unusual to say the least. He wondered if she'd ever had to deal someone forcing himself on her…if perhaps she had to deal with it even now. It didn't sit well with him. Logically, he knew that he couldn't help every woman in the Rukongai. However, from what he'd seen of her skills, she could have a seat in the Fourth Division if she wanted to. Maybe not a very high seat, but undoubtedly better than her current position. Instead, she was reduced to helping out whatever thug knocked on her door in one of the worst parts in Rukongai.

"What are you thinking so hard about, Bya-chan?" A familiar voice called from the doorway. He looked up to see Shihouin Yoruichi leaning against the door with a wide grin on her face. Byakuya automatically scowled; it was turning into a default reaction whenever he saw the stupid were-cat-with-too-much-time-on-her-hands.

"Paperwork, Shihouin-taicho. I realize that this may be a foreign concept to you, but some people actually do something productive with their time." He would have protested the nickname as well, but long experience had taught him that she would only replace it with something worse, like Bya-boo, or, gods forbid, 'chibi-chan'. It was a miracle he hadn't lost all respect around the division years ago.

"Ah, the powers of delegation. You'll understand someday, kiddo," she responded cheerfully. "Besides, I have to give little Soi Fon something to distract her from beating up all the lower seats, don't I? That girl…she's just so adorable. I'm so proud of her." It took every ounce of his Kuchiki pride for Byakuya not to snort. Only Yoruichi would call that tiny little budding psychopath of an angry hornet adorable. "Besides, you can't fool me, Bya-chan. You haven't written down anything or turned a page in the past five minutes. Spill."

"It is nothing that concerns you, Shihouin-taicho. Besides, shouldn't you be getting back to the second division? As their captain and all?" He asked, lips thinning.

"Aww…you're no fun, Byakuya. Over a century old, and you still haven't learned how to relax. Now, let me guess. Was your tea half a degree above its normal temperature? Did some poor miscreant forget to turn in a report? Or…I know! It's a girl that has you so preoccupied, isn't it?"

Byakuya hesitated, then promptly cursed himself as he realized his mistake approximately 0.2 seconds later. In front of him, an unholy gleam lit Yoruichi's eyes and a wicked grin stretched across her face. She looked about half a second away from cackling maniacally.

"Oh…oh dear god, I was right! You're having problems with a girl!" Yoruichi looked absolutely delighted, a stark contrast to Byakuya's sudden depression.

"It's not what you think…" He protested weakly. Yoruichi ignored him completely, still caught up in her euphoria.

"I can't believe this day has finally arrived! After one hundred and forty two years, Kuchiki Byakuya finally shown interest in a girl! To be honest, Kisuke and I had a bet going on whether or not you were gay…he bet that you swung the other way, but were so deep in the closet that it'd take at least another fifty years to realize it. I bet that you were just a late bloomer, and I was right! Ha! He has to do all my paperwork for a month! Take that, Kisuke! Wait 'til I tell him!"

"Tell me what?" Another familiar voice asked from the door, to Byakuya's acute horror.

"Little Byakuya has his first crush!" Yoruichi said triumphantly as Byakuya tried to subtly sink down in his chair.

"Oh? Which gender?" Urahara asked curiously. Byakuya threw his ink-pot at him.

It missed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) Follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing


	8. Chapter 8

“This was a mistake,” a voice said flatly from behind me. I hummed absentmindedly, eying the tunic I was holding up with a critical eye. Rough but firm cotton, decently made and with a simple design—not bad.

“I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. I should just forget the whole thing and head home already. This is a pointless endeav—hey, are you listening to me?” I rolled my eyes at Byakuya’s indignant state.

“Oh, stop whining already. Here, try this on.” I thrust the tunic at him, receiving a glare in return. “If you’re going to be spending any amount of time here, you need some clothes. The ones you’re wearing right now are falling apart, beginning to stink, and I’m burning them as soon as I get you some new clothes.” To be honest, Byakuya’s clothes weren’t that bad, and his hygiene was pretty good for someone who’d spent the past two weeks camping out in the woods. However, if there was one thing I’d kept with me from my previous life, it was my need for good sanitation. I couldn’t do anything about most of my patients’ states of hygiene, but for those I had to spend an extended amount of time with…well, I made sure Rukia, Renji, Kaori, Mitsuo and Kazuki bathed at least once every three days.

“This is hideous.” I sighed, turning around to see that Byakuya had finally tried on the tunic I’d handed him and was currently frowning heavily at it. Who knew the Kuchiki heir was such a drama queen? Miwa—who I’d dragged along on our little shopping trip after bumping into her on our way to the market—giggled. She’d been quiet so far, too nervous to talk much, so I was happy to see her opening up.

“I look ridiculous, Hisana-san.”

“You look a damn sight better in that than in the potato sack I found you in yesterday, and you know it. Now come on, we need to get you a nice big, wide, face-concealing hat. Your pretty face is attracting attention that we really don’t need right now.” I glanced back, expecting a sharp protest to defend his ‘manliness.’ Instead, he had a slight smirk on his face.

“You find me attractive then, Sensei?”

“That wasn’t a compliment, Byakuya-hime.” I retorted, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly and cursed internally. Over fifty years of experimenting with healing kido, and I still couldn’t figure out how to keep myself from blushing. “Now shut up and follow me.”

“Ugh,” I heard Rukia mutter to Miwa from behind me. She was supposed to be in sparring practice with Renji under Kazuki’s supervision right now, but instead was tagging along citing that she “had a headache and so was unfit for heavy exercise.” I had a sneaking suspicion Kazuki was behind her presence; I’d seen them muttering together while Byakuya was eating breakfast, something about ‘chaperoning’, ‘watching out for suspicious activity’ and ‘cockblock them if you need to, Rukia-chan’.

“Watching adults flirt is _gross,”_ Rukia continued, grumbling. Miwa nodded from where she was making a face at Byakuya. I sighed; well, at least they were getting along. I’d been apprehensive about how Rukia would take to Miwa, but clearly my worries were for naught if they were already bonding over ‘gross adult activities’. A glance towards Byakuya showed that his eyes had narrowed, having obviously heard Rukia’s comment, and was now preparing to deliver a sharp retort. Apparently hoping that Byakuya and Rukia would get along as well had been too much to ask for.

 Ignoring them both, I tiredly rubbed my forehead with my palm, resisting the urge to just ship Byakuya back to the Seireitei. _This is for Rukia, you can do it for Rukia,_ I chanted mentally, _Rukia needs this, even if the ungrateful brat doesn’t realize it yet._ A shout had me looking up to see that Miwa had grabbed Rukia’s arm to prevent her from throwing her shoe at Byakuya. Apparently whatever awe and apprehension Rukia had felt towards Byakuya upon first meeting him had long since vanished. _And it only took about two hours,_ I thought sardonically, wondering what in the world had changed for my Rukia’s attitude towards the Kuchiki scion to be so different from canon Rukia’s. At this point, Byakuya looked about two seconds away from pulling out Senbonzakura and I groaned. This was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, what do you think? Could he pass for someone from the area?” I asked hopefully an hour later. Byakuya was dressed in a simple tunic, cotton trousers, with a scarf around his face and a large straw hat shading his eyes. Rukia eyed him critically.

“Possibly…if someone was blind and deaf, maybe,” she said finally. I deflated.

“Sorry, Sensei,” Miwa said apologetically. “He…well, he looks like a noble in disguise.”

“Wonderful, so he looks exactly like what he is,” I scowled.

“I do not understand; from what I have observed, this style of clothing is no different from that of the typical Inuzuri resident.” Byakuya stated, a slight frown on his face.

“It’s not the clothing that’s the issue, Byakuya-san,” I said tiredly.

“It’s everything else,” Rukia stated bluntly.

“Look, let’s put it this way. Even if I put on a silk kimono right now and had my hair done up in an elaborate hairstyle, you’d still be able to tell I wasn’t a noble the minute I opened my mouth—hell, maybe even before that. I don’t walk like one, I don’t stand like one, and I definitely don’t speak like one.”

“So where does that leave me?” He asked. I sighed.

“There’s really only one way you’d ever be able to pass yourself off as someone, well…not from the aristocracy. And it’s simple, but it’s gonna take time. Basically…spend more time around people who aren’t rich. Observe how people talk, their accents, how they stand, how they drink their tea and eventually you’ll be able to imitate them.” I shrugged. “Sorry, can’t really help you more than that. I can explain the customs we have, but the little things you’re going to have to learn yourself.”

Honestly, I wasn’t too bothered about people finding out about Byakuya. Despite what I told him about my worries concerning Oshiro, my main reason behind requesting Byakuya’s silence was actually reluctance about the Gotei 13 finding out about my abilities. Even if Oshiro did discover that I disobeyed him that day, there was literally nothing he could do against me without turning all of Inuzuri against him. That was assuming he even got angry—seeing as he suffered no retaliation from the shinigami, as far as I was concerned he had nothing to complain about. He’d probably be more along the lines of indignantly offended than anything serious.

But the shinigami themselves…they were another matter entirely. Even here, in one of the most remote districts, rumors about the shadier aspects of the Gotei 13 traveled through. Whispers about people who became too outspoken in their dislike of the current system disappearing into the night; stories about rogue shinigami and academy dropouts vanishing without a trace—all told in hushed voices with an ever-present undertone of fear. Every couple of years, some shinigami would come through, and would parade around with his newfound wealth and success. The propaganda did have a grain of truth in it—the only way to truly break the cycle of poverty the rest of the Rukongai was stuck in was to become a shinigami, or marry one. And it wasn’t like all shinigami were bad—I wouldn’t trust a member of the Onmitsukido (or the ninja-squad, as I privately referred to them in my head) with one of Rukia’s rabbits, never mind Rukia herself, but there were definitely some decent people in the squads (case in point, Byakuya). That didn’t mean I wanted to attract their attention though.

I had no idea how they would react to someone not in the Gotei 13—and therefore not under their control—knowing healing kido, but I wasn’t exactly eager to find out. I knew that anyone with a modicum of fighting skill and reiatsu became a shinigami sooner or later, though it might take them a while if they came from the outer districts. Best case scenario for me would be that they leave me alone. Best case _realistic_ scenario for me was that they shove me into their academy or into their 4 th squad. Worst case scenario…someone from the 2nd squad kills me to prevent me from either passing on my skills to possible enemies or directly aiding possible enemies. Key word ‘possible’ here; a potential threat was as much a death sentence as an actual one.

Maybe I was just being paranoid, but while people died in the districts all the time, people _didn’t_ just vanish into thin air without some outside party being involved.

As for why I wasn’t really worried about Byakuya knowing my skills…well, even two minutes after meeting him I could tell that the teenager was stupidly honorable. He said he would keep my secret and so he would; that’s all there was to it. As a noble, he was well trained in keeping secrets anyway. My only worry was that someone would follow him here; thus the reason I was even bothering with a disguise. But while he’d never be able to fool anyone local, his new look would be more than enough to fool any nosy shinigami who came snooping, if only because _no one_ in the entire Gotei 13 would expect _Kuchiki Byakuya_ , pride and joy of the Kuchiki clan, to walk around in public wearing commoner’s clothing. I was fairly certain the mere idea wouldn’t even pass through their heads, considering the fact that _I_ could barely comprehend the notion and he was standing right in front of me.

Speaking of which…I hid a smile behind my hand as I took in the scene in front of me. Rukia was holding up a bright pink kimono and waving it around in Byakuya’s face. “I’m telling you, this is the latest fashion for men here! Don’t you know? Colors are a sign of wealth, and considering how filthy rich you seem to be, this is perfect for you! Here, look; it says on that sign over there that this is the finest silk you can buy!”

Byakuya somehow managed to give her a look of utter disdain without shifting a single facial muscle. “I assure you that _this_ , whatever it is, is most definitely not silk. Hisana-san, please tell your sister to remove this abomination from my sight.” Inwardly I sighed; and he still wondered why he couldn’t pass for a commoner if his life depended on it?

“I don’t know,” I said lightly, pretending to think about it and tapping a finger against my chin. “I think it would look rather fetching on you.” Fighting not to grin at the exasperated look in his eyes, I got as far as mentally superimposing the pink kimono over his current clothing before my control shattered and I doubled over laughing. “Oh…oh…dear god…I can’t breathe,” I gasped, holding onto a giggling Miwa to steady myself. “I’m…really happy that…you came back, now. I didn’t think you’d provide me with this much entertainment.”

“Glad to see that you find my humiliation so amusing,” he sniffed, though I saw the corner of his mouth reluctantly twitch upwards.

“Glad to see that we understand each other,” I returned, unable to help smiling. For a prissy noble with the world at his feet, Kuchiki Byakuya was…not what I was expecting.

 

* * *

 

By five o’clock in the afternoon, I was certain that Rukia would never forgive me.

“He’s a slave driver!” She wailed at the top of her lungs. I rolled my eyes and made my way over to where Renji was slumped over limply on the ground. Upon hearing that Rukia had ‘special training with an actual shinigami’, he’d shown up to Rukia’s planned training session with Byakuya and had refused to leave. He looked to be rather regretting that decision now.

“It’s all ‘Your endurance is pathetic. Run up and down that steep hill for half an hour’ and ‘your technique is almost tolerable. Now run that kata through another twenty times until I am satisfied,’” Rukia continued.

“Yes, yes, I know. I was there,” I said dryly, handing Renji a wet towel. “Though if you still have this much energy left to complain, I don’t think he was tough _enough_ on you.” Both Renji and Rukia gave me identical horrified looks.

“Nee-chan! How can you say that--”

“He’s the _devil,_ Hisana-nee-san, a hollow disguised as a human, no one could possibly be that evil otherwise--”

“Is there a problem here?” A voice asked coolly from behind me. At the sight of Byakuya, both Rukia and Renji shut up faster than Kazuki did when Kaori got _that look_ in her eye, though Rukia did glare mutinously at him. Renji seemed to be fighting the urge to whimper.

“Not at all. I must thank you again for agreeing to do this, Byakuya-san. I’ve never seen my sister try so hard to stab someone in all her life.” He raised an eyebrow at me, though I caught the amused glint in his eye.

“Then I am honored. Though I wouldn’t be much of a teacher if I couldn’t figure out a way to…motivate my students.” He paused for a second, then added, “But you were correct in what you said earlier. If they still have the breath to complain, then I am not pushing them nearly hard enough. You two!” Byakuya addressed the two kids still sitting on the ground, tone abruptly sharpening. Unconsciously, both Rukia and Renji straightened up, backs stiffening, and I could suddenly see exactly _why_ Byakuya deserved his current rank. “Another ten laps around the hill! If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, then it’ll be twenty.”

Rukia groaned, then shot me a meaningful look as if to say, _See? He’s EVIL,_ before taking off. Renji shot off an impressive string of curses, most of them targeting Byakuya’s ancestry.

“Another five laps, Abarai-kun,” Byakuya said mildly. Absently, I wondered if I should be worried that Byakuya’s future lieutenant seemed to hate him with a passion…nah. Renji would get over it.

“Have you always been this sadistic?” I wondered aloud. “That seemed almost unnecessarily cruel.”

“I am only doing him a favor,” Byakuya answered with a completely straight face. “Curbing his tendency towards vulgar language will only help him in the future.”

“Right,” I snorted. “So this has nothing to do with how he mistook you for a girl when he first met you.” Byakuya’s expression didn’t change, but his right hand twitched towards Senbonzakura. I mentally prayed for Renji’s soul.

“I would thank you not to remind me of that.” He said, voice dangerously smooth. I rolled my eyes—an increasingly common occurrence—and flicked him on the forehead. He stepped back, stunned.

“Get used to it, hime. And stop with the ‘scary-shinigami-intimidation-shtick’. You’re not fooling anybody.” With that, I turned around to grab another sandwich from the plate Kaori had prepared for our afternoon out. “You coming?” I asked, right before stuffing half my face with a sandwich. Turning back to look at Byakuya, I paused mid-chew at the decidedly odd expression on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, after swallowing with a Herculean effort. He shook his head, mouth tilted up slightly seeming almost bemused.

“Nothing. It’s just…I’m not used to being treated this way.”

“What, like a normal person?” I snorted. “Well, if you were expecting me to call you ‘Kuchiki-sama’ or ‘Byakuya-dono’, you’d better get used to disappointment.” One corner of his lips quirked up.

“No need. Besides, while I understand that our acquaintance has been brief…,” here he paused, seeming a bit hesitant, “Over the time I have known you, I have come to think of you as a…new friend, of sorts. For you to address me in a manner that does not put us as equals…I admit, it does not sit well with me.” Here it was my turn to be a bit stunned. For a while, I floundered, unsure of what to say. While I’d certainly enjoyed our day together more than I’d expected to, for Kuchiki Byakuya to openly declare that he thought of you both as a friend and an equal—what do you say to that?

In the end, it seemed that I’d used up my quota of heartfelt, sappy feelings shit for the day…or possibly the month, and I just shoved roughly at his shoulder.

“Good, because the day I start bowing and curtseying before you is the day I finally go crazy. Now while this heart-to-heart has been…nice, I better check up on Rukia and Renji before they die of exhaustion.” Indeed, as I squinted into the distance, Renji appeared to have collapsed into a twitching heap and Rukia seemed to be clawing herself forward through sheer force of will.

Glancing back, I barely caught the almost imperceptible hurt that flashed across Byakuya’s face for a split second and fought the urge to wince. Byakuya…didn’t seem the type of person to make friends easily. I had no idea what his life as a noble was like, but it probably wasn’t too conducive to making friends who liked him for _him_ and not his status or wealth. He’d taken a risk tonight with me and while we really _hadn’t_ known each other to form any sort of strong foundation for a friendship, I probably shouldn’t have been so dismissive either. He wasn’t yet the strong, confident, self-assured shinigami captain he’d become in the future, I reminded myself. Right now, under that perfectly poised mask was still a teenager—a remarkably competent and capable teenager, but a teenager nonetheless. And no teenager, noble or not, dealt well with rejection.

“Very well,” Byakuya said a bit stiffly, though if I hadn’t seen him genuinely relaxed earlier I’d never be able to tell the difference. “You’re right as always, Hisana-san—it’s time to cut this training session short. They’ve suffered enough.”

“Hey,” I said softly, walking up and bumping my shoulder lightly against his, “Just want you to know, you can call me Hisana if you want. Just Hisana—you don’t need to attach an honorific all the time.”

He looked startled. “Are you sure? This isn’t exactly proper; we’ve known each other for less than a week--”

I sent him a pointed look. “Do I really look like someone who cares all that much about propriety? Besides, none of my friends refer to me by an honorific.” Then, because if I stayed around for much longer I was going to start blushing, I made my way over to Renji to make sure he wasn’t dead yet, determinedly not looking at Byakuya’s face. _Someday,_ I thought grumpily to myself, _I will figure out how to stop myself from blushing. Until then, avoiding eye contact it is._

 

* * *

 

The next day I had to actually get up early to go to work, because as much as I would have loved to take a week off occasionally, people were stupid and couldn’t get by for two days without showing up at my doorstep with some sort of medical emergency. I’d made it a rule not to bother me on Saturdays unless someone was dying, but otherwise…let’s just say it really sucked being the only halfway-competent doctor in Inuzuri.

Kazuki was still sleeping, since his job as a part-time bouncer/bartender mostly required him to keep night hours. It was a lucky day when he was up by noon though I wasn’t complaining—his current job was far preferable to his past one as a hirable bodyguard/conman. Mitsuo would be up soon; he’d set up a martial arts dojo about a decade back, training anyone from kids to yakuza. While not always…legitimate, I’d never seen him happier. Kaori would also probably wake up in about an hour. Since her job was basically a glorified accountant/financial advisor, her hours were pretty flexible, but she preferred waking up early. Something about “so I don’t sleep half the day away, like a pig,” with a pointed look towards Kazuki. Byakuya, Rukia and Renji would be having an all-day training session today, complete with a basic overview of how the academy was organized, how the Gotei 13 was run, the duties of each squad, how ranks were organized…I almost pitied them. As for the last member of the family…

“Miwa-chan, I see you standing behind the door. As you’re awake, I could use some help over here,” I scolded, tone faintly reprimanding. She flushed but came forward, a sheepish look on her face.

“So,” I said as I began measuring out enough rice for seven people (Kazuki wouldn’t wake up until lunch). “Have you given any thought to my offer?” Miwa looked up startled from where she was whipping up eggs for omelets.

“I have,” She mumbled. “And…I’d like to learn from you.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” I said carefully. “This is a commitment, you understand, and it’ll likely be more difficult than anything you’ve ever done in your life. I won’t take on a student who’ll give up halfway.” Her head shot up.

“That’s not it!” She said fiercely, almost spilling the bowl of eggs she was holding. “I…I know that it’ll be hard, but I’ll definitely try my best! I won’t give up!”

“Then what’s the problem?” Miwa looked back down and didn’t reply. Sighing, I set the pot of rice and water on the stove and turned to face her, kneeling down to look her in the eye. “Look, if we’re going to do this, we need to communicate with each other. I can’t help you with what’s bothering you if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s just…” Her voice trailed off. I waited patiently—she’d talk when she was ready to.  

“Sensei…you’ve given me such a great opportunity. I…I have a chance at a future now,” Miwa finally continued, voice infused with wonder. “You can teach me to help people like Reiko-nee-chan and the others. But…but what if I can’t do it? You’re really smart, Sensei, everyone says so, you figured out how to heal people the same way the _shinigami_ do, and _no one_ around here has been able to do that before. You know so much about how the body works and what plants work well together and how to distract people so that they barely remember the pain and…and you’ve done so much for me, I know you’ve been giving Reiko food every week ever since you found out I get hungry sometimes. I just…I just don’t want to disappoint you.” Her voice died down until I could barely hear her last sentence.

“Hey, come here,” I said softly, pulling her into a hug. Miwa’s shoulders shook and I could feel where the collar of my shirt was growing wet. “I-I’m s-sorry, Sensei, I’m r-ruining your shirt,” she stammered, trying to get up. I tightened my hold.

“Miwa, listen to me. You said that as my student, you’ll try your best?” I asked. She nodded furiously. “Yes, Sensei.”

“You’ll listen to what I have to teach you? You won’t give up?”

“Of course, Sensei.” Her voice became a little firmer, determination hardening her words. I resisted the urge to smile.

“And you won’t hesitate to do what I tell you to do, no matter what it is?” I asked seriously. The willingness to follow orders was just as important as a person’s resolve to learn. When a man’s life was on the line, the efficiency with which an order was carried out could mean the difference between life and death.

“I promise, Sensei. I trust you.” Miwa said, gaze never wavering from mine. This time, there was no hesitation in her answer.

“Good,” I ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry so much, Miwa-chan. So long as you do those things, we won’t have any problems. I could ask for nothing more.”

She smiled shyly, then leaned forward again and wrapped her arms around me in a quick hug, whispering “Thank you, Shishou,” before grabbing a bowl of rice and darting away again. I stood stunned for a moment, before recovering when Kaori entered the room.

“What’s got you so shocked?” She asked, pouring herself a bowl of porridge. I sat down slowly, grabbing a bowl of my own.

“Miwa just called me Shishou. _Shishou._ She called me _master,_ ” I said, awed. While I had offered Miwa a mentorship a while back, it was just hitting me now what that actually meant. Raising an eyebrow disinterestedly, Kaori turned back to her breakfast.

“So? From your expression I thought you’d just found the fountain of youth or something.” I flicked a piece of natto at her. It missed and landed into her bowl.

“Did you have to do that?” She complained, frowning. “You know I hate natto.”

“ _Pay attention,”_ I hissed. “I’m someone’s _Shishou._ I’m _Miwa’s_ Shishou. This is _important.”_

Kaori sighed. “I still don’t get what the big deal is. You’ve known this was coming. So you’re gonna be teaching the brat. A change in her way of addressing you is expected.”

“ _I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility!”_ I whisper-yelled, keeping an eye on the door in case Miwa came back. Kaori rolled her eyes at me. I was really beginning to hate that expression.

“Now, when I was coming down the stairs, I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation,” she began, ignoring my mutter of “Sure you couldn’t, you nosy eavesdropper” with admirable ease. “And I’m pretty certain that this conversation sounds familiar, only now I’m in your shoes and you’re in the brat’s.”

“This is totally different!” I insisted, annoyed that Kaori just wasn’t _getting it._ “For the foreseeable future, I’m going to be totally responsible for Miwa’s well-being! Her education, her happiness, her actions, her _life_ …”

“Sounds an awful lot like being a parent,” Kaori remarked. “And as much as I hate handing out compliments, you’ve done a pretty good job with Rukia. What makes this so different?”

With a flourish, Kaori finished off the rest of her porridge and set her bowl down in the sink. “Well, I’m off to try and untangle the total mess that moron Aida made of his finances before your pet shinigami wakes up and I actually have to make conversation with him. Think about what I said. I like you much better when you’re not being an insecure idiot.”

Say what you want about Kaori, but she did get her point across. I twirled a piece of natto between my chopsticks, staring at it thoughtfully. When she put it like that…yeah, being a Shishou to Miwa wasn’t so different from raising Rukia. In fact, it’d probably be a lot less stressful, since I wouldn’t be a ten-year old kid desperately trying to keep myself and a baby alive with no means of financial support. So why was I freaking out about this? What made this seem so different?

It was probably, I reflected, because raising Rukia had never been much of a choice for me. Oh, there were definitely moments where it had seemed impossible and there had been that one night, when, at the peak of my desperation, I’d seriously considered giving Rukia up. But even then…Rukia was _mine_ , _my_ sister, _my_ flesh and blood, the last reminder I had of our parents. It didn’t matter how bad things became, leaving her behind had never _really_ been an option.

But Miwa was different, because I didn’t _have_ to take her in. But that night when Reiko brought me in and I saw her lying limply with bruises all over her body and ligature marks on her neck, like a doll that had been through too much and then tossed aside like trash but despite everything _still wasn’t broken_ —that night, I had chosen Miwa and Miwa had chosen me and the fact that it was a _choice_ was what made this so scary.

Rukia and I had always, and would always share a connection that couldn’t be broken and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But Miwa had _chosen_ to trust me, had _chosen_ to look up to me, despite everything she’d been through. And having someone place that kind of trust in me was kind of terrifying.

But while my relationship with Miwa would be completely different than the one I had with Rukia, there were still definite similarities between the two. It all came down to me taking care of them and then preparing them to stand on their own. With Rukia, I’d done everything I could to make sure she was happy, healthy and had a bright future, and for the most part, I succeeded. And if I could do that, well, there was nothing stopping me from doing the same with Miwa.

“Shishou? I’m done with my breakfast. Are you ready to leave?” Miwa’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I offered her a bright smile and set my bowl down in the sink before holding out my hand.

“I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

“Well,” I said wryly from where I was kneeling in front of Rukia, inspecting her swollen ankle. Luckily, it only seemed to be sprained instead of broken. “I admit, I’m surprised it took you this long to get an injury with how much you’ve been training lately.”

Rukia scowled at me. “Renji got a concussion the second day.” I shrugged dismissively.

“Renji-kun has a hard head. Even without my help, he’d fully recovered in two hours. This, on the other hand…” Gently lifting her ankle, I sent a wave of healing reiatsu down her leg, first numbing the nerve endings. Then, infusing the wounded area with my reiatsu, I began stitching together torn ligaments. Fifteen minutes later, most of the inflammation had gone down and the major tears were fixed.

“It’s still cool seeing you do that,” she said, flexing her ankle experimentally. “Can I go now? Oni-sensei said that we might be learning a new move today.”

“I wish you’d stop calling him that,” I muttered, though I suppose ‘demon-teacher’ was better than ‘stupid-bastard’, which was their initial nickname for Byakuya. Six days into their training, and both of Byakuya’s students had started nursing a grudge the size of Soul Society against him. “Also, no heavy physical activity for the rest of the day. I don’t want you putting any strain on that leg—the last thing I want is for you to come in two hours later but with a broken ankle instead.”

“But nee-chan…” She whined. I firmly pushed her back down on the cot and handed her a cup of cool water. “My final answer is no. You’ll survive missing training for an afternoon. Besides, I thought you’d be glad to get away from your ‘evil teacher’ for a day.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want stupid Renji getting ahead. Besides, Oni-sensei’s leaving soon, so I wanna get all the training I can, even if it means I have to put up with sensei’s torture.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rukia-chan,” a voice said sardonically from the doorway, somehow making Rukia’s name sound like ‘brat sent personally from hell to annoy me’. I looked up to see Byakuya leaning casually against the wall, somehow managing to look perfectly composed in ninety degree weather. “I take it today’s afternoon training session will be canceled then?”

“A break won’t hurt anyone,” I said smiling, and pulled up a chair. I hadn’t seen much of Byakuya these past few days, considering he was busy tortur—training the kids and I’d been relatively busy with work. “Oh, you have the herbs I asked for. Thanks so much—you didn’t have any trouble with hollows?”

“Only a few,” he said frowning. “They provided good training practice. Though you shouldn’t be going so far into the woods if hollows showing up are a common occurrence.”

“I haven’t really had many problems with running into them,” I said, waving an arm dismissively. And I had a good enough grasp of my own spirit energy that when I did, I tended to just scale a tree, clamp down on my reiatsu as tightly as I could, and wait for them to go away. To hear that Rukia had been fighting them though…

“You didn’t tell me about this, imouto,” I said curiously. I’d expected it to be the first thing out of her mouth when she saw me. To my surprise, Rukia turned bright red, while Byakuya’s lips twitched. “I’m not surprised she didn’t. You see, when the hollow first appeared, little Rukia-chan here—“

“Nothing happened!” Rukia yelped, jumping up to slam her hand against Byakuya’s mouth. He nimbly dodged her flying tackle, and yeah, he was definitely smirking now. “Nothing happened, nee-chan, I swear! You jerk, stop making up lies!”

“Oh, but Rukia _-chan_ , don’t you want to tell your sister all about how the hollow—“

“Shut up! Not another word! And it wasn’t my fault anyway, if that pineapple-haired idiot hadn’t gotten in my way—“

 I shook my head, ignoring the spectacle in front of me. I didn’t want to know. Children, the both of them—you’d think Byakuya at least would know better, but no, five days in Rukia’s company and his mental age had reverted back at least a century.

An ear-splitting shriek from the next room made me jump in alarm, while Rukia fell off the bed. Byakuya had tensed, one hand already on his sword before Miwa charged out of the room, looking for all the world like she’d just won a life supply of ice cream.

“Shishou! Shishou, look! I did it!” She babbled excitedly, completely ignoring the other two occupants of the room. “I finally managed to focus my reiatsu! Look!” With that, she scrunched up her face in concentration, before a faintly glowing sphere of blue light about the size of a ping pong ball rose up from her hands.

“That’s wonderful, Miwa,” I said warmly, reaching over to hug her. She beamed up at me, clearly thrilled. “I’m really proud of you.” Catching Byakuya’s curious look, I answered his unvoiced question. “I’ve had Miwa start on meditation exercises for the past three days, in addition to watching me interact with my patients and learning about the properties of different plants. We’ll be able to start anatomy lessons soon.”

Wasn’t looking forward to that. I was well aware that it was only my previous background in medicine that made it possible for me to puzzle my way through how to utilize healing kido. The theoretical knowledge alone had taken me over a decade to learn, never mind the many years I spent serving in the army to touch up my practical knowledge. But…unlike in the human world, medicine wasn’t _only_ about the technical knowhow. In fact, it was only about sixty percent skill and knowledge. The other forty percent was all intuition—something I had a feeling Miwa would excel at.

Miwa blushed, finally registering that we weren’t alone. “Sorry, Kuchiki-san, I didn’t see you there. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Don’t worry, Miwa. Oni-sensei was just spouting a bunch of nonsense, as usual. You certainly didn’t interrupt anything important,” Rukia grumbled, sitting up from where she had fallen to the ground in a jumble of sheets, blankets and flailing limbs. I gave her a warning look.

“Remember your manners, Rukia. No matter what your personal opinions of him are, Byakuya is still your teacher.”

“I still can’t believe it’s just ‘Byakuya’ now. You dropped his title, like, halfway through his first day here,” Rukia muttered sulkily.

“Hisana has done me a great favor in the past, offered me a place in her home, and has treated me well these past few days. There is no need for her to address me so formally,” Byakuya answered, looking at her steadily. I could feel my cheeks slowly heat up while both Miwa and Rukia gaped at him.

“Was there anything you needed, Byakuya?” I cut in abruptly, before the conversation could delve into increasingly uncomfortable territory. I understood that saving his life was obviously a big deal, but it made me feel guilty whenever he brought it up. At some level, he still saw me as much of Inuzuri did—as some kind of altruistic, selfless savior, and I wasn’t. Not really.

I could see how it must have looked from Byakuya’s point of view: some tiny, defenseless girl going against a room full of thugs, risking her own health and reputation in order to aid a stranger. But the truth was…up until I found out that Oshiro’s prisoner was a high ranking _shinigami_ , I’d had no intention of helping him out. I may have chosen to rescue Miwa from a lifetime of poverty, but there were a thousand other girls out there I _hadn’t_ saved. Hadn’t helped beyond plastering on a kind (fake) smile and offering to heal some bruises. I wasn’t the person he thought I was…no matter how many masks I plastered on, at my core, I was still Rukongai. And the first rule of Rukongai, as I’d learned so many years before, was that no one was going to help someone without a reason. Behind every act of kindness, there was an ulterior motive. We had compassion—we weren’t _monsters_ —but no one who lived here long enough would freely offer aid to a stranger solely for the sake of compassion. That, if nothing else, tended to get people killed.

“Yes, actually,” Byakuya said, staring intently at my face. “You are going to accompany me to lunch.” I faltered, almost dropping the pitcher of water I was holding. Meanwhile, Rukia had turned red again and was sputtering angrily. She looked rather like an indignant tomato, I thought absently through my shock.

“Kuchiki-san…are you asking Shishou out on a…on a…da- ?!” Miwa asked stunned. I abruptly began choking on air, cutting her off. Forgetting her shock at Byakuya’ statement, she started pounding me on the back. “Shishou, I’m so sorry! Forgive me! Are you okay—you haven’t taught me the Hemling thing yet!”

“Hisana, are you alright?” Byakuya asked, eyeing my purpling face with visible concern. “We can postpone the ramen outing if you’re feeling unwell.”

“It’s the—ack—Heimlich maneuver, not the ‘Hemling thing’, Miwa,” I recovered enough to say, calming down massively with Byakuya’s clarification. “And this is merely an outing between two friends. I promised Byakuya earlier in the week to introduce him to ramen after he mentioned he’d never had it before.”

_Two Days Ago_

_“What do you mean you’ve never had ramen?! Are you even Asian?”_

_“I do not understand what the big deal is. Though I have not personally tried this dish before, from what I hear, it is merely noodles in some type of broth, correct?”_

_“…I can’t believe this. That’s it; we’re going out for lunch on Thursday. I can accept your ignorance on some aspects of normal-people life, but this is just pathetic.”_

“I’d almost forgotten about it. Thank you for reminding me,” I added. Across from me, Rukia was staring at Byakuya in fascination, as if he’d suddenly morphed into some bizarre extraterrestrial being with six arms.

“You’ve seriously never had ramen before? Man, what is your _life_?” She asked, before shaking her head in amazement. “No wonder you have such a giant stick up your—

“Rukia,” I cut in sternly before Byakuya finally snapped and murdered her. While I could sympathize, it would be terribly counterproductive to my goal of keeping her relatively happy and well.

“Miwa, while I’m off exposing Byakuya to one of the staples of Japanese cuisine, you can work on the kanji I showed you earlier this morning. Copy each one fifteen times; if I’m not satisfied with them when I come back, you’ll have to repeat them. If a client comes in, I’ll be at Ichiraku’s across the street. Rukia, I have a few books set aside for you in the other room and you can walk around but _stay inside._ Don’t touch anything besides what’s in the kitchen cupboards; I don’t want a repeat of last time when you spilled a pot of tea and then cleaned it up with bandages that you somehow mistook for paper towels. Patients still ask about the stain that created in the clinic waiting room, you know. I’m pretty sure half of them are convinced that it’s blood.”

“I was only _thirty,_ then nee-chan! Stop bringing it up!” She whined.

“Yeah, well then there was that one time you--” I began, only for Miwa to cut me off, motioning towards where Byakuya was waiting next to the door.

“Ah,” I said sheepishly, walking over. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” his eyes glinted, “hearing about Rukia-chan’s childhood stories is always…entertaining.”

“They provide you blackmail material, you mean,” I scoffed, trying to sound stern and completely failing. “You’re a horrible person, Byakuya.”

“I prefer to think of it as simply being pragmatic,” he said loftily, though the amused tilt of his mouth gave him away. “Now, I believe you were going to introduce me to the wonders of ramen?”

“Prepare to be amazed,” I said grinning, sitting down at one of the tables outside the stall. “Oi Ichiraku-san, bring up one bowl of every flavor!”

“Hungry today Sensei?” Ichiraku asked, coming over with a large smile. No one was sure just how old the famed ramen chef was, though Kazuki swore he’d been around since before Inuzuri was, well, Inuzuri.

“For your cooking? Always,” I replied grinning. “Though this is more for my friend here. He’s never eaten ramen before, can you believe it?”

“Oh?” Ichiraku raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well then, I’ll be sure to cook my very best then. I would hate to disappoint one of Sensei’s friends.”

Half an hour later and we had to move to a bigger table just to be able to fit all the bowls.

“Hisana,” Byakuya began, then stopped.

“Hmm?” I asked, studying the vast assortment of dishes in front of me. “What do you think you want to try first? Miso is one of my favorites, but beef is good too. If you prefer a lighter kind of broth, you might want to start off with seafood though.”

“Hisana, there has to be at least twenty bowls of ramen in front of us right now. There’s no way we can finish all of this,” Byakuya said flatly. I pouted.

“Oh, ye of little faith. Besides, since this is your first time trying ramen—and _Ichiraku’s_ ramen at that—it’s my duty as a friend to expose you to the widest selection possible! How else are you going to discover what’s your favorite?” I asked. Seeing Byakuya’s hesitant expression, I sighed before picking up the nearest bowl (chicken and pork with bamboo shoots, fishcakes and nori seaweed), taking a pair of chopsticks and lifting a cluster of noodles to Byakuya’s face.

“Look, it’s really not that hard. I’ll even do most of the work for you. Say ‘ahh’,” I teased, waving my chopsticks back and forth slightly. Byakuya glared at me.

“I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, thank you.” With that, he snatched the chopsticks from my hand before practically stuffing the noodles in his mouth.

I could see the exact moment his taste buds registered the flavor of the noodle-broth mixture by the expression of bliss that spread across his face. His eyes widened and he leaned back to stare at the bowl in his hands reverently.

“This…this is…” He gasped, a look of wonder in his eyes. I nodded solemnly and reached over to cover his free hand with my own in a gesture of solidarity and understanding. “I know.”

An hour later, the bowls in front of us were empty and I felt like my stomach had swollen to three times its normal size. I resisted the urge to puke and wondered if this was what pregnant women felt like all the time. Byakuya, the bastard, looked his normal composed self though I noticed even he looked a little green.

“Thank you,” he spoke abruptly.

“What for?” I asked, turning to stare at him in confusion.

“For allowing me this opportunity to stay with you and your family. I have not enjoyed myself this much in a very long time.” Byakuya elaborated, and tilted his head to look at me. His eyes were soft, I noticed, a warm gray like the color of fog in the early morning. “I’m leaving soon; the day after tomorrow at the latest. I just wanted to take this chance to say I’m truly grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

“I haven’t done that much,” I protested weakly, “and you’ve more than paid me back. I can’t even begin to thank you for the effort you’ve put in training Rukia, and Renji too even though he wasn’t a part of our deal--”

“You know, a wise person once told me that occasionally, it’s better to simply accept a nice gesture from someone without trying to repay them. Sound familiar?” I flushed. “I’m going to repeat that advice to you; stop objecting so much whenever people say nice things about you. I meant every word I just said. I know you’re uncomfortable with being complimented, but by protesting, all you’re doing is insulting my opinion.”

“Huh…so I did teach you something after all,” I muttered wryly. He quirked a smile at me and motioned for Ichiraku to pack up two containers of ramen.

“We’ve should be heading back. I have no doubt Rukia-chan is already planning my murder for allowing her to go hungry for so long. Miwa-chan might be helping her.” Despite the clear exasperation in his voice, there was no mistaking the subtle fondness coating his words. Feeling an odd twinge in my stomach that had nothing to do with the meal I’d just consumed, I reached out to grab Byakuya’s wrist as he stood up.

“Byakuya, wait,” I stammered, feeling oddly nervous. “In case I don’t get a chance to say this to you later, I…I just wanted to let you know that, if you were ever passing nearby and wanted to visit…” Goddamn it, I could feel myself blushing again. “You’re always welcome here. And I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t mind it if you stopped by to say hello.” I looked down, biting my lip furiously to stop the stupid stream of semi-incoherent words currently leaving my mouth without my brain’s permission. A gentle touch on my arm made me look up again. Soft silver eyes practically radiating sincerity. A smile that left me oddly out of breath. My mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“I’d be honored to, Hisana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment on your way out :)


	9. Chapter 9

“Gah! Shishou, did you see that? I swear its leg just twitched!” Miwa shrieked, pointing at the very still, very _dead_ frog lying on the table. I sighed, resisting the urge to massage my temples. Maybe I should have waited another month before starting dissections, but Miwa had insisted that she was ready. And, well, it _had_ been four months since her training had started. Without any access to textbooks or anatomy pictures, there was only so much I could teach her without demonstrating on an actual animal. She was far from the skill level required for me to trust her with an actual _person,_ and it wasn’t like there was an abundance of dead bodies for her to work on, so the best way for her to see and learn how a body worked was to experiment on dead animals—in this case, a frog.

“I promise you, Miwa, that frog is very, very dead. You don’t have to worry about hurting it. Now make an incision at the cloaca, right between its legs just like I showed you.” I pointed to the neat incision I’d made on my own frog, right next to hers. Miwa winced, but picked up a scalpel timidly and slowly cut where I pointed. I eyed her incision critically. It was shallow, barely more than a scratch really, and sloppy from where she’d hesitated before pressing forward.

“Again. You aren’t going to be able to open it up like that,” I said. The second time she showed more confidence—still wasn’t ideal but it’d do.

“Good. Now I want you to make a transverse cut just under the head and another one across the hip region,” I continued, demonstrating on my own frog. “After that, you just reach in…” I resisted the urge to grimace, missing the days when latex-gloves were a thing. I’d brought alcohol to sterilize our hands after, but it just wasn’t the same. “…and fold the flaps back, just like this.”

“That is the grossest thing I have ever seen in my life,” Rukia remarked, looking slightly ill as she observed the frog’s gastrointestinal tract. On the other hand, Miwa seemed to have gotten over most of her reservations and was now leaning in for a closer look.

“Is that really what we look like inside?” She asked, fascinated. I smiled slightly.

“Well…there are some key differences. Our respiratory systems are completely different and a frog heart only has three chambers while we have four. The liver of a frog is also structurally different than a human liver—they have three lobes, we have four. But other than that, most of the major organs are very similar.”

“I can’t believe that I look like a _frog_ on the inside,” Rukia grumbled, making a face. I rolled my eyes at her.

“You’ll find that your internal organs resemble those of quite a few other creatures. Now if you’re just going to sit around and make unnecessary comments, you’re free to leave. No one’s keeping you here,” I said with a pointed look towards the door. Rukia stuck her tongue out at me.

“Fine, I’ll find Renji and some other guys to come play tag, while you two sit around cutting open poor amphibians like a pair of creepy scientists,” she sniffed, before flouncing out the door. I sighed at her antics while next to me, Miwa seemed to have forgotten Rukia’s existence completely and was now in the process of repeating my actions on her own frog.

“Now, look closely. You see this yellow stuff here? Those are fat cells. This large organ on the lateral right side of the body. Across from it, you can see the stomach, and this tiny green organ here is the gallbladder…”

* * *

             

“So you’re saying that after this, we can start on cats next?” Miwa asked two hours later, eyes shining.

“Mmhm,” I hummed, eyeing today’s selection of fish and debating whether or not to get salmon or tuna for dinner tonight. “There’s plenty of strays around the district. It won’t be two hard to get one.” Not that I would purposely go out and kill a cat. That was just asking for bad karma. But plenty of cats died from disease or from fights with other animals.

“After that, you should have a pretty good grasp on converting your reiatsu to healing kido and you can work on helping me heal the animals people bring me.” Of course, only the more well-off people actually had pets…but Rukia alone brought me an injured animal about every other week so that wouldn’t be a problem.

“What do I do after that, Shishou?” Miwa asked hesitantly. I looked up in surprise.

“Well, it’ll be a long time before I’m satisfied with your progress on animals. Probably a year or so, maybe longer. But then after that, you’ll start dealing with actual people of course. More specifically, me.” There was a long silence. Turning to Miwa, I saw that her eyes had gone very wide.

“I’m…my first patient is going to be you?” She squeaked, voice high. I still didn’t know why she was reacting like this.

“Well…yeah. This way if you mess up, I’ll be able to fix it. I mean, my first patient was myself.” That…had not been fun. In fact, I still had faint scars and burn marks from my first few attempts at healing my self-inflicted wounds. But it wasn’t like I was going to refine my skills on my _family_ before I was confident enough to use them on _myself._

“Don’t worry so much about it. You have a long way to go before you get to that point,” I continued. “And it’s not like I’m going to let you start off with one of my patients. Do you have any idea how much damage that’d to my reputation if you messed up? People aren’t going to keep coming to me if it gets around that I let my clumsy apprentice experiment on them.” She flushed, looking away.

There was another reason why Miwa would refine her skills on me, and not, say, herself. Aside from the obvious that it was so very wrong to let my kid apprentice deliberately hurt herself, using myself as a test patient would motivate her to learn quickly, if nothing else. It was one thing to fail to heal yourself—it was another thing entirely to fail to heal someone you were close to, knowing that they would suffer because of your mistakes.

Nothing had quite motivated me to improve as much as Tatsuya’s and Horio’s deaths had.

“I think I’ll stick with the salmon today, Reo-san,” I said finally to the vender in front of me.

“You got it, Sensei. And who is this?” He asked curiously, looking at Miwa who was half-hiding behind me.

“That’s Miwa-chan. She’s my new apprentice,” I said, a faint hint of satisfaction entering my voice. Next to me, Miwa straightened up subconsciously in pride and I had to hold back a fond smile.

“Oh?” Reo asked curiously. “Well, it’s about damn time, I say. I’ve always thought it was a shame that a nice, young girl like you had to work so hard. Maybe now that you have an apprentice, she can pick up some of the slack, yeah?” Turning to Miwa, he added, “You’re damn lucky to have her as your Shishou, Miwa-chan, so you better work hard, okay?”

“I will,” Miwa murmured determinedly. “I won’t let Shishou down.” He gave her a look of approval, then handed the bag of salmon over to me. “Here, Sensei. Free of charge.” When I started to protest, he added, “Think of it as a congratulatory gift. It’s not every day that you get an apprentice, after all.”

I was just about to thank him again, when two small blurs ran into me, almost toppling me over. I looked down to see both Rukia and Renji looking slightly panicked and out of breath.

“Nee-chan, you have to come quickly--”

“Hisana-nee-san, hurry, come on--”

“Hey, hey, calm down, one at a time,” I said soothingly. “What’s the matter?”

Renji looked at Rukia before whispering urgently, “It’s Oni-sensei. He’s back. And he’s got another shinigami with him, who’s injured.” I felt an odd jolt in my chest at the mention of Byakuya and was already moving by the time the rest of her words registered.

“Where?” I asked sharply, shooting an apologetic look at Reo before turning to go. “Tell me what happened.”

“He’s at the house; Mitsuo got both of them in through the back door. Nee-chan, it looks bad, there was blood everywhere--”

“Oni-sensei was hurt too, he looks like he got burned pretty badly by something—“

“Miwa,” I interrupted her, “run to the clinic and grab bandages, burn paste and any salves that might speed up the coagulation process. Go quickly.” She nodded, seeming a little pale but her eyes were determined. Turning to Rukia and Renji, I snapped out a curt “Let’s go,” before sprinting in the direction of the house. A grim looking Kazuki greeted me at the door.

“Back family room, come on,” he said. Coming into the room, I saw that Byakuya half sitting, half lying on the floor and was leaning over another shinigami who was unconscious on a cot, blood clearly seeping through her clothes. Upon seeing me, a look of both relief and desperate hope flooded his face as he tried to stand up.

“Hisana, thank god—please, there was a mission, we were outnumbered…Nakano-san got hit, I don’t know how bad it is, I think she might be poisoned, and she’s been unconscious for a while--”

“You idiot, sit down!” I hissed as Byakuya staggered, the rest of his words trailing off as what little color he had before left his face. “Mitsuo, could you bring me a basin of warm water here?” I asked, assessing Byakuya’s injuries. Clearly exhausted, suffering from a mild case of reiatsu depletion, a painful looking second-degree burn on his right shoulder as well as bruised, possibly broken ribs…but overall, nothing life threatening. On the other hand, his companion looked like she’d been stabbed almost clean through the abdominal area two times. Removing her black outer robe and gingerly lifting her white undershirt away, I fought to keep a calm expression at the dark red, almost black streaks extending from the wounds.  While shinigami tended to be several times more durable than regular souls, I highly doubted anyone lower than lieutenant level would be able to shake off that injury.

“What is it?” Byakuya asked, worry lacing his voice as he tried to lean in for a closer look.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, my voice perfectly steady. Byakuya’s expression said that he clearly didn’t believe me but before he could try to get up, Miwa entered through the door.

“Sensei! I got the materials you asked for!” She called out gasping, face flushed from exertion. I nodded. “Okay, Miwa, you’re going to help Byakuya to the next room. Get him settled on a bed and treat his burn—you know what to do.”

“What is it? Hisana, what won’t you tell me? Is it really so bad that I can’t even be in the same _room_ as her?” Byakuya asked. Only the slight shaking of his hands gave away his desperation.

“Not at all. But she does require peace and quiet in order to treat your comrade effectively. Something she cannot attain with you in the room,” Kaori said, having just entered the room. She gave Byakuya a pointed look. “If you want your friend to live, I’d suggest you follow her orders.” For a moment I thought Byakuya would refuse, but then he allowed Kazuki to pull him up. Before he left though, he reached over and grabbed my hand. The look in his eyes said everything his pride wouldn’t permit him to. _Save her. Please._

I squeezed his hand lightly and nodded.

 

* * *

            

“Come on, _come on,_ work with me here,” I nearly growled in frustration. While I’d managed to temporarily slow the bleeding by applying a salve to speed up the clotting process, it wouldn’t be doing me much good if I didn’t get rid of the poison. I’d never seen anything like it before. It seemed to be almost _eating away_ at the shinigami’s spirit energy around the puncture wound. Every time I tried to direct my reiatsu to the area in order to begin the repairing process and seal the wound, the poison would just…dissolve the spirit energy and I’d be left where I started. I’d already tried drawing out the poison, directing it elsewhere, using my own reiatsu to attack it…all with a spectacular lack of success. In fact, after it ate my reiatsu like it was nothing, it seemed to get even stronger. Maybe if the shinigami—Nakano--had higher levels of reiatsu, her own spirit energy would instinctively attack and crush it. Right now though, it was like trying to fight an infection that targeted white blood cells with an already weak immune system. Worst of all, the poison was spreading so even if I managed to stop the bleeding, it would just feed upon her reiryoku and reishi, decaying tissues and cells until nothing was left. It almost seemed _alive_ , like a hungry beast eagerly devouring everything in its reach…

I blinked. If I thought of it as something sentient…like a part of the hollow that had transferred over and was now sustaining itself on the shinigami…well, I already knew that it was attracted to spirit energy. Stupid thing couldn’t get enough of eating mine, for one thing. And everyone knew that hollows preferred eating souls with higher reiatsu…

“So you like bigger meals, huh?” I murmured. It was a long shot, and I had no guarantee this would even work or that it wouldn’t backfire on me…but hey, it wasn’t like I had any other ideas and the shinigami would be dead in a couple hours at the rate the poison was spreading. Maybe normally, my reiatsu levels wouldn’t be high enough to tempt the poison away from the shinigami, but if I condensed it…

Taking a deep breath, I infused my hands with spirit energy and gently sent out probes into the wound. Instead of just layering the injured area with a coat of reiatsu, I compressed my reiatsu into thin, creeping tendrils and tentatively prodded where I could sense the poison seeping. As expected, it attacked and ate away at the tip of the probe…but it also stopped spreading forward. Hesitantly, I sent out another tiny tendril towards the poison. This time I didn’t withdraw the probe, and like luring a bird away with a trail of breadcrumbs, the poison followed my spirit reiatsu, eating away at my improvised trail the entire time, while I prodded it at different points to make sure I drew all of it out. At the same time, I set numerous probes out towards the other puncture wound, creating a makeshift net of spirit energy over her entire abdomen.

Honestly, it was slow exhausting work. I had to constantly replenish my probes as they were eaten away to draw the poison back towards the entry point, make sure my probes were focused enough that they would provide a more attractive food source than Nakano’s own spirit energy but not enough that they would start cutting through tissue, make sure my net reached all areas of the poison…I didn’t think I’d had this much of a challenge since, well, ever. Usually hollow attacks ended with the victim dead and swallowed—few survived to get to me. Most poisons weren’t this complex either, and tended to attack cells, not spirit energy itself. I’m not sure how long it took—an hour? Two? But eventually I managed to lead all the poison back to one area, where I took what remained of my net and commanded my reiatsu to wrap up the poison in a ball. Once the poison was safely contained in a ball of my own spirit energy, I was able to remove it from my patient’s body relatively easily. I scowled at the glowing ball of green floating above my right hand—I could still see the poison inside, a streak of ugly toxic black writhing inside its container, already eating its way out. Taking the basin of water, I released the energy from my hand into it, where the toxin contained within immediately turned the liquid a dark purple.

I leaned back, fighting a wave of sudden dizziness. Now wasn’t the time to pass out from exhaustion though, as much as I would’ve liked to. Even though the poison problem was removed, she still had two gaping holes in her chest. First things first—I had to do something about the damaged internal organs. Shinigami or not, I doubted she could shake off torn intestines. Ignoring the pounding migraine beginning to form around my temples, I reached in again to stitch the smooth muscle back together.

By the time I was satisfied that Nakano was going to live, it was well into nighttime and I’d had to finish suturing up the wounds with thread since I’d ran out of my own spirit energy sometime after hastily repairing the damage done to her spleen. Staggering slightly, I made my way over to the door and just barely caught sight of Kaori’s alarmed expression before stumbling, the edges of my vision blacking out. A pair of steady arms caught me.

“Hey, easy there,” Mitsuo’s soft voice came from somewhere above me and then I felt myself being gently lowered to the ground and maneuvered so that my head lay on his lap. Gentle fingers carded through my hair, massaging my scalp lightly. I sighed in contentment.

“She’ll b’alrigh’,” I slurred, syllables merging together. I struggled to get the words out. “She almo’ died-- stoopi’ poison, bu’ I kill’ it. Tell…tell Bya’ya tha’ she’ll live.” The last thing I heard was Mitsuo’s quiet reassurance before the world faded out on me.

   

* * *

          

The first thing I registered upon waking up was a pair of muffled voices yelling in the next room. Well, that was the second thing I registered. The first thing was I noticed was how _heavy_ I felt, like gravity had suddenly quadrupled overnight. I shifted tiredly, already trying to fall back asleep, but the annoying voices in the next room persisted.

“See, this is why I didn’t want her taking you in. You damn shinigami are nothing but trouble!” A voice—Kaori, my still mostly asleep mind registered—was snarling. “For some goddamned reason I still don’t understand, Hisana seems to have taken a liking to you. And now because of some stupid promise you forced on her, and the fact that she _doesn’t want to disappoint you,_ she exerted herself to the point that her life was actually in danger! All you do is take and take, expecting more and more, and now my sister is lying in the next room half dead because of you!”

“Kaori!” Another voice whispered reprovingly. Mitsuo. “I understand your anger, but please try to keep your voice down. Hisana is still sleeping and she needs her rest right now.”

“I…did not intend for Hisana to exert herself so much.” A new voice stated, this one laced with guilt.

“I don’t give a damn what you did or didn’t intend. Fact of the matter is, Hisana has been unconscious for almost two days because of you and your kind,” Kaori spat, uttering the last two words like a curse. “Why are you still here anyway? What do you care? Your little friend is alive and well, right? That’s all that matters to you—it wouldn’t matter even if Hisana _died_ so long as you got what you wanted--”

“Do not,” and I’d never heard Byakuya’s voice sound so cold, “imply that I _ever_ wanted to cause Hisana harm of any kind. Blame me if you must—I admit that I am largely responsible for her current state—but don’t you _dare_ say that I don’t care about her.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it then, shinigami- _san,”_ she hissed out, though she lowered her voice. “Come on, tell the truth. Is this the real reason you befriended her? So that you could conveniently have a healer at your beck and call whenever you went out on missions in the area?”

At this point, I finally gave up on getting any more rest and with a massive effort, managed to open my eyes…and stared in bemusement at the wide assortment of fruit baskets, baked goods and flowers filling up the room. For a moment I wondered if I was still dreaming, because the last time I checked my room _did not_ look like the offspring between a Hallmarks store and a candy shop.

Trying my best not to make any noise-- Rukia, Renji and Miwa were lying on a mat next to me, slumped over each other like a pile of puppies—I stood up and took a package of mochi resting on top of what looked like a lifetime supply of pocky. Turning back to the puppy pile in front of me, I had to resist the urge to coo at the sheer cuteness in front of me. Rukia was curled up in a tight ball, clutching about three quarters of the blanket tightly to her chest and guarding it jealously even in her sleep. She always had been a bit of a blanket hog. Next to her, Renji was drooling slightly on his pillow, one arm covering his eyes and his right leg sprawled over Miwa’s. On her part, Miwa was mumbling slightly into her pillow—something about angry frogs, red pineapples and bunnies with swords. After taking my own blanket and draping it over Renji and Miwa (Rukia didn’t need it, the little brat), I took a deep breath, shoved about five mochi balls into my mouth, and prepared myself to face the shitstorm outside.

I entered the living room just in time to hear Byakuya say, “I understand your dislike for me, but please cease your attempts to keep me from Hisana. I have no intention of leaving until I have ascertained for myself that Hisana will make a full recovery and have repaid her to the best of my abilities. Unless Hisana herself insists that she has no desire to see me, I will not be going anywhere.” Next to Byakuya, Nakano—now awake—gaped at him with an incredulous expression.

“Such concern touches me, Byakuya. I’m moved, really.” I said, deciding now was a good time as any to make my grand entrance. Byakuya’s eyes widened and I ducked my head, a bit uncomfortable at the open relief on his features. I’d become used to him opening up a little over his time here, but seeing blatant emotion on his face was still unnerving. To my relief, Kazuki could always be counted on to break the tension.

“Wha—you—when—the hell are you doing up?!” He sputtered, dashing over to my side in less than a second. For a moment he flailed, not seeming to know what to do, before he slammed one hand on my forehead in a poor attempt at checking my temperature while his other hand seemed to be tugging me towards the couch. I swatted him away.

“I don’t know about you, but the last time I checked walking around was a fairly common thing to do,” I said dryly, popping another sticky rice ball into my mouth.

“You should be resting!” He all but shouted. Behind him, Kaori snorted.

“Mother Hen Kazuki strikes again,” she murmured. Mitsuo chuckled. I glared daggers at both of them.

“I’m _fine,”_ I insisted, refusing to sit down due to the principle of the matter, although I internally acknowledged that Kazuki had a point. The couch was looking _really_ comfortable right now. “Byakuya, it’s nice to see you again and under better circumstances this time.” Giving him a quick once over, I hummed in satisfaction, a burst of pride at Miwa’s progress rising up in me. “Miwa did well. You’re almost completely healed. Nakano-san, your condition looks considerably improved—I can probably take those stiches out this afternoon.”

“Your hands are shaking,” Kazuki frowned, completely ignoring my attempt to turn the attention away from myself. “That’s it. Bed. Now. And Mitsuo, bring some more food over will you? She can’t recover if she doesn’t eat.” His tone left no room for disagreement. “Kuchiki, Nakano, leave us for a moment. Hisana needs to relax and she can’t do that if she’s tempted to diagnose you every time she sees you.” For a moment, Byakuya hesitated and looked about to argue.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” I said, shooting him a reassuring smile. Byakuya nodded, still looking rather reluctant. “Very well. We’ll talk later.” A pause, then—

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Hisana. Your presence was…sorely missed these last few months.” With a final short bow, he exited the room with his normal grace.

A hard tap on my head jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked up to see Kazuki raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I asked defensively. Kaori looked about two seconds away from banging her head on the wall. “Clueless,” she muttered.

Kazuki stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head in resignation. “It’s nothing. Now march and get your ass on the couch.”

“This is totally unnecessary,” I complained as Kazuki practically forced me to sit down. “It’s not like I’m injured—I’m just suffering from a slight case of reiatsu exhaustion. As you can see, I’m perfectly okay.”

“‘Perfectly okay,’ she says. ‘Slight case of reiatsu exhaustion’, she says,” Kaori scoffed incredulously. “Please, as if we needed any more proof that your mental facilities were irreparably damaged. You were in a unconscious for _over a day,_ Hisana. That is not ‘fine’.”

“Since you seem so convinced that I’m damaged mentally, remind me again—who exactly is the healer here? Oh right…I am,” I grumbled, trying to hide my surprise. Unconscious for that long? That was…unexpected.

“A fact that worries me more every day,” Mitsuo intoned solemnly. “It’s a sad state of affairs when our healer can’t even take care of herself.”

“I get no respect around here. No respect at all,” I sighed mournfully. “Fine. But can someone please explain to me why my room looks like it contains half the food in Inuzuri?”

“You’re Inuzuri’s darling, Hisana. When people heard that their beloved doctor was sick…well, what did you expect?” Mitsuo answered, smiling slightly. I blinked in surprise, looking down at my hands.

“Oh,” I said softly, swallowing. My throat felt oddly dry. “I—

At that moment, the door slammed open as Rukia came bursting through the door. “Kaori-nee-san, Kazuki-nii, come quick! Nee-chan’s missing! I don’t know what happened, oh my god, what if someone came in and kidnapped her while I was sleeping, I’m such a horrible sister-”

“Rukia, calm down. I’m right here,” I said, mildly amused. She blinked and stood still for several seconds before realization dawned. I braced myself.

“Nee-chan, you’re awake!” She shrieked, voice hitting a pitch normally reserved for dog whistles. The next thing I knew, my back was hitting the couch as I was tackled by seventy pounds of emotional, teary-eyed teenager. I gasped for air as she half-strangled me, doing her best impression of a clingy octopus. “Oh my gosh, I was so worried and I don’t care what Oni-sensei said, you just _wouldn’t wake up_ and…and you were so still it was like you were d-d-de-”

“Hey, it’s okay now, I’m okay,” I said softly, stroking her hair gently. “Besides, you know what reiatsu exhaustion is like. You’ve seen me like that before.”

“Yeah, sometimes you pass out for a coupla’ hours, but never for _over a day,_ ” she said indignantly. A flash of red at the corner of my vision made me look up. Renji was standing at the doorway with his mouth wide open, Miwa right behind him looking torn between joining Rukia and allowing me to recover. I sighed in resignation and opened up my arms obligingly. Then the breath was knocked out of me yet again as two more teenagers piled on top of me. Looking up, I caught sight of Kaori smirking in the background, Kazuki’s arm around her shoulders. _Help me,_ I mouthed, staring pleadingly at them. Kaori’s smirk just widened, while Kazuki huffed a laugh.

“No way. You brought this on yourself, brat,” he said tone completely unrepentant.

“You scared us half to death, Hisana-nee-san. Rukia was _unbearable_. So we’re just gonna sit on you until we’re sure you ain’t gonna do somethin’ like that again,” Renji added.

“You can’t do that again, Shishou,” Miwa spoke up, voice uncharacteristically serious. “One of the first things you taught me was that you can’t help other people if you don’t take care of yourself first. You…you can’t tell me that and ignore your own advice!” She said fiercely. I blinked in surprise. Where had my meek, shy apprentice gone?

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Dumbass,” Kaori grumbled. “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want you to say you’ll never do it again.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I answered, shaking my head. I wasn’t willing to make a promise that I might not keep. If any one of my family members was heavily injured…if Rukia’s life was on the line…well, forget a one-day coma. I’d become the next Sleeping Beauty and sleep for a hundred years if it meant they’d be okay. “But…I have a better grasp on my limits now. I do promise that I’ll be a lot more careful.”

“Well, I guess that’s the best I’m going to get,” Kazuki sighed. He reached over and ruffled my hair. “You’re a troublesome, reckless, downright _idiotic_ brat with the self-preservation instincts of a retarded lemming, you know that right?” Ouch. I might be hurt if Kazuki hadn’t been calling me variations of the same thing for over half a century now.

“Takes one to know one, moron,” I muttered over Rukia’s indignant ‘Hey!’

Kaori laughed and nodded in agreement. “Sometimes I think that that’s the only thing we all have in common.”

“A family of common-sense lacking, dysfunctional misfits, huh?” I asked, smiling. “I can live with that.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, it wasn’t until tomorrow that my family deemed me well enough to give Byakuya and Nakano a final checkup and that was only after an hour straight of wheedling, arguing, and outright demanding. It wasn’t even like I was going to use any healing kido—Byakuya was pretty much completely healed and I just needed to remove Nakano’s stitches.

“I’m sorry for the wait, Nakano-san,” I said, rubbing an alcohol-based antiseptic over the suture marks. "My family has a tendency to…overreact.”

“Just call me Rin, Sensei. I’m not much for formalities,” she answered. “And there’s no need to apologize. I’m in no hurry and their concern is understandable.”

Using a pair of forceps, I picked up the knot of the first stitch and cut it with a pair of small scissors, before using the forceps again to pull the thread from the skin. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, which district are you from?” I continued, simultaneously cutting another suture. By now it was just instinct for me to keep up a conversation with my patients to distract them. While I was sure Rin, being a shinigami, wasn’t too squeamish about pain and needles, keeping her attention on more trivial matters wouldn’t hurt either.

“Fifty-sixth of North Rukongai. I only became a shinigami a few years ago.” She replied. Pausing for a moment, she added, “It’s my first time going so far out. Before this, the furthest I’ve traveled from the Seireitei was the sixty-second district.”

“Not what you were expecting?” I asked.

“It’s a bit more…organized than I thought it’d be,” she answered diplomatically.

“You mean civilized,” I laughed, “We’re not all barbarians, you know. Just because there’s less…regulation here than in other places doesn’t mean that we don’t have our own rules.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” Rin stuttered, cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I know you didn’t. There’s no need to apologize. Trust me, it takes more than this to offend me.” I was almost done removing the stitches.

“I’m just surprised…I mean, from what I’ve seen, it’s hard to get decent medical care anywhere further out than the tenth district, and even then you have to pay through the nose. I mean, maybe it’s different here in South Rukongai, but…”

“No, you’re right,” I smiled wryly. “I can’t say much for the other districts, but at least here in the 78th, I’m the only healer who provides aid at a reasonable price.” Or any price at all. My services, reasonable or not, wouldn’t have been nearly as valuable if they weren’t in such high demand. In a place where over fifty percent of the population couldn’t even read, doctors, even incompetent ones, were next to nonexistent. “If nothing else, it’s a pretty stable career choice and allows me to gain some much needed experience, so don’t feel bad that I overexerted myself. I can’t improve if I don’t challenge myself after all.”

With a final tug, I pulled the last of her stitches out. “There, all set. You’re free to go, Rin-san. Aside from some scarring, you’ll recover nicely.”

Rin stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Sensei.” She then reached into her shihakusho and pulled out a bag of money. “It’s not much, but I’d like to show my appreciation anyway. And…even if it was just as a favor to Kuchiki-sama, you saved my life. If you ever need anything, as long as it doesn’t go against the Gotei 13, feel free to call upon me.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I said, slightly surprised. “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told Byakuya—the only favor I need right now is for you to keep my involvement quiet.”

“You don’t want the Gotei 13 to know about you.” It wasn’t a question. I grimaced. “Bringing their attention to me would be asking for complications I really don’t need right now.” Rin eyed me for another second before nodding. “I understand. You have my word.”

 I smiled gratefully at her, before adding after a hesitant pause, “Take care of yourself, alright? And even if he is your superior, can you keep an eye on Byakuya for me? I think…having another friend will do him a lot of good.” Rin nodded firmly.

“Of course.” She hesitated before adding, “He was really worried about you, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so scared. I didn’t get why—that Mitsuo guy told me he’d known you for less than six months—but I think I understand now.”

“Well…” I didn’t really know how to respond to that, “I should have a talk with him if he’s still feeling guilty then. Taking responsibility for my actions isn’t going to help either of us.”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, he does regret what happened—but that’s not—what I’m getting at is,” Rin shook her head in frustration. “Look, aside from you, no one but his family is allowed to address him so informally. Anyone who does otherwise is just asking to get shredded by Senbonzakura. And I’ve never seen him as relaxed with _anyone_ as he is around you. Just…think about what that means.”

* * *

 

The soft sound of footsteps made me look up. “Hey,” I greeted Byakuya and motioned for him to take a seat by me.

“The roof, Hisana? Really?” He asked arching an eyebrow at me. I shrugged.

“It’s quiet and the view is great.” I nodded towards the sun setting in the distance, enveloping all of Inuzuri in a soft golden light. “Why? Worried that I’ll fall off?” I asked with a teasing smile. He eyed me disapprovingly.

“It’s not safe, and if you do slip, I know exactly who’ll get blamed for it. I’d rather not give your family any more reasons to dislike me if I can help it,” he said dryly. “It does tend to make my stays here rather uncomfortable.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is. You’re worried about your own wellbeing. I’m touched, Byakuya. You’re truly a paragon of virtue and selflessness,” I grumbled in mock offense. He chuckled and sat down next to me. What I really wanted to know was how Byakuya made what basically amounted to ‘flopping down’ look like a freaking _ballet act._ There was just no fairness in the world.

“Don’t be upset, I was only joking,” he added, his eyes glinting with humor. “You know I’d catch you if you ever fell.”

“Thanks for the reassurance, but it’s unnecessary. Who’d be there to catch you then? You’d have to deal with hitting the ground _and_ my body crushing you.”

He eyed me dubiously. “I don’t think I need to worry about that.”

My eyes narrowed. “Exactly what are you implying there? I could so crush you if I wanted. I’m not _that_ small.”

“That’s debat—um, what I meant was that since I am a shinigami, I don’t have to worry about falling off a roof. I would be a pretty pathetic seated officer if something as small as a jump from a roof defeated me,” he corrected hastily at my darkening expression. I snorted but decided to let it go.

“You know, sometimes I wonder about that. Most of the time I see you you’re injured in some way or another. I have no idea why Rukia and Renji aren’t scared off from becoming shinigami yet.”

“Ah, but see, we know that you’ll always be there to patch us up afterwards,” he said lightly before his tone turned serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly for what you did for Nakano-san, Hisana. You went above and beyond anything I ever expected you to do, and you saved her life. For that, I am truly grateful.”

“You’re welcome. Now stop feeling guilty—don’t deny it, I know you do—you didn’t force me to do anything and you’re not responsible for my…period of unconsciousness. You’re my friend; if pushing myself a bit harder than usual means that you don’t have to mourn for a comrade, then I’m willing to do that.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? You don’t have to answer—I was just curious.” A shadow crossed over his face.

“I suppose if anyone has a right to know, it’s you. I led a team consisting of me, Nakano and two others—an unseated officer, Okamoto-san, and a medic from the Fourth--to investigate a series of reported hollow attacks just outside the 75th district. One of the hollows had the ability to turn invisible; he caught Okamoto off guard while I was dealing with two hollows with the ability to fly and spout fire. Our medic was also killed in the process,” Byakuya grimaced. “I did not know either of the deceased that well, but Okamoto was a friend of Nakano’s. She was…distracted.” I nodded in understanding; it wasn’t too hard to figure out what had happened after.

“You couldn’t lose her too,” I murmured. Byakuya’s jaw clenched. “The other members of my team may have been only acquaintances at best, but they were still my responsibility. I’m a fourth-seat. What use is that rank if I don’t even have the power to protect those under my care?” He asked, self-loathing evident in his tone. I smacked him on the forehead, hard. It was by far the best cure for brooding-itis I’d found yet.

“Things happen. People die, and there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s life,” I scowled at his dumbfounded expression. “The only thing you _can_ do is train harder, get better, so that the next time something like this happens you’re strong enough to stop it.” Byakuya stared at me, causing me to shift uncomfortably. “What?” I asked defensively. A strange look passed his face.

“You’re not going to tell me that it wasn’t my fault?” He asked.

 I sighed, leaning back and looking at the sky. “I doubt you’re looking for platitudes right now. Besides, if you believe that you’re responsible, me saying otherwise won’t change your mind.” I pulled out a familiar dagger from inside my yukata and twirled it absentmindedly. “See this?” I asked.

“I didn’t know you fought with knives,” he said curiously. “May I?” I handed it over to him and he flipped it around, testing its sharpness by gently pressing it against one finger. “It’s a fine blade.”

“It’s not mine. Or at least, it wasn’t always mine,” I amended softly. No matter how many decades passed, I would always think of it first and foremost as Tatsuya’s dagger. “It once belonged to one of my closest friends. He’s dead now—was killed years ago in a fight gone wrong, along with another friend of mine.” Byakuya refrained from saying anything, for which I was grateful. A ‘sorry for your loss’ wouldn’t have made anything better. It never did.

“I carry this knife with me everywhere now. As a constant reminder that I couldn’t save them, and to _never_ become complacent with my skills. No matter what, there’s always room for improvement.” After I once spent over fifteen minutes performing CPR on a patient, not giving up even after his ribs had cracked from the force of my compressions, Kazuki had commented that I didn’t deal well with failure. He was partially right, I supposed. The truth was more along the lines of, I didn’t accept failure _period._

“I know that nothing will bring them back,” I continued quietly, staring at the dagger in my hands. “But if by constantly honing my skills and challenging myself I can prevent any other members of my family from going the same way, then I can live with that. I can’t change the past—no one can—but I can plan for the future.”

For a moment, neither one of us spoke. Then, a heavy weight dropped abruptly on my lap, causing me to grunt in surprise and look down. “The hell?” I muttered, glancing at Byakuya questioningly. “Books?” They were thick, worn-looking…I flipped through one, eyes widening at the thorough descriptions and diagrams of the human body. There were even annotations written neatly in kanji in the margins.

“Byakuya…what…” I stuttered, eyes wide. Even I could tell that these books were probably worth…well, I didn’t even want to think about it.

 “I’ve been meaning to give these to you for a while now,” Byakuya replied, shrugging lightly. “I brought them along when I heard my mission was in the 75th district in case an opportunity to visit you came up. They’re from my family library—Unohana-taicho recommended them when I mentioned that I was taking a light interest in healing kido.” He looked down, the faintest tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. “The first one delves into anatomy, how souls function, how spirit energy affects the body, and theories of reishi, reiatsu and reiryoku; how they’re related, and the differences between them. The last two focus on healing kido; how to use it, different incantations, theories, along with advice on channeling it most effectively. No one’s looked through them for years. I have a feeling that you’ll put them to better use.”

“I don’t think--” I protested, trying to hand them back. Against my will, my traitorous fingers curled around the books longingly. “I can’t accept this; what if someone notices they’re missing?”

“Hisana.” Byakuya’s hands wrapped around mine and he gently pushed the books back in my direction. “My library contains thousands of books. I doubt anyone is going to notice that three of them have gone missing. Please, just take them. If you must, think of them as a thank-you gift for your hard work.”

“…alright. This means a lot to me, Byakuya. Thank you.” I said gratefully after a short pause and leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him in a brief hug. Byakuya stiffened before relaxing and hesitantly pressing a hand against my back. Absently, I noticed that he smelled nice—like fresh ink on paper with a hint of sandalwood.

A thought suddenly struck me, distracting me from my musings (was it just me, or was his face a hint redder than before?). I narrowed my eyes at him warningly, pulling back. “I’ll accept things as payment, but don’t start bringing me random things for no reason, okay? This is already bordering the edge of overly-extravagant. I don’t want charity.” He frowned, obviously reluctant to agree.

“I do not understand your aversion. From what I understand, exchanging gifts between friends is a relatively common practice, is it not?” Byakuya asked, confused. “It would certainly be of no inconvenience to me; I am more than capable of affording even the most expensive luxuries.”

 I tapped my fingers against my chin, pondering how to put my thoughts into words. “Hmm, how should I explain this…if you want to bring me gifts as a friend, then fine, but tone it down a notch or ten. What I’m trying to get at is, I don’t want you to feel obligated towards me. Just because I helped you doesn’t mean you owe me nice things—that’s not the type of relationship this is. I didn’t do any of this because you’re Kuchiki Byakuya, unbelievably rich heir to the Kuchiki clan, capable of buying pretty much anything under the sun. I’m doing this because you’re Byakuya, the guy who indulges my shopping trips, eats ramen with me, puts up with my overprotective family and enjoys coming up with devilish training regimens in his free time. Do you get it now, idiot?”

For a long moment, Byakuya just stared at me, an odd expression on his face. Then he huffed a laugh, tilting his head to look at me fondly.

“You’re the strangest girl I’ve ever met, you know that?” He murmured softly.

I flushed, getting to my feet. “Don’t go reading too much into my words, hime,” I retorted, holding out a hand to help him up. “All I meant was that I’ll be treating you the same way I treat everyone else; you don’t get any special treatment just because you’re rich. That reminds me, I still need to wash the dishes, take down the laundry, and give Rukia’s rabbits a bath because she probably forgot again and _you’ll_ be helping me. I don’t care if this is your last night here, you can still do your share of the work.”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” He complained, taking my hand and standing up gracefully. “Someone needs a refresher course on hospitality.” I whacked him on the head again.

Byakuya spent the rest of the night bitching about “commoner cleaning methods” and the “pitifully low thread count” of my cotton sheets as well as squabbling with Rukia (“Rukia- _chan,_ if you do not control your rabid pets I will quadruple your training schedule the next time I come”). Despite all that, however, I got the feeling that he was rather enjoying himself. I shook my head in confusion.

_Nobles,_ I thought exasperatedly. _I’ll never understand them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review on your way out :)
> 
> For more of my writing, follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

Interlude

Two days after Byakuya's return to Seireitei:

"Kuchiki-san." Byakuya turned at the sound of his name, acknowledging the figure standing in the doorway with a nod. "Unohana-taicho," he said neutrally. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if we could have a talk," she answered, stepping inside and taking a seat in front of him. At this, Byakuya straightened, slightly alarmed.

"Is Nakano-san alright?" He asked. Hisana had assured him that Nakano would be fine, and while he trusted her skills, she'd still been recovering from her collapse at the time. It was possible that she'd missed something.

"She'll make a full recovery," Unohana assured him. "In fact, she's due to be cleared for active duty this afternoon. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

"Oh?" Byakuya asked, a bit uneasily. What exactly was so important that it warranted a visit from the Fourth Division captain herself?

"Kuchiki-san," she eyed him seriously. "Answer me honestly. Who treated Nakano-san?" It took every ounce of his training not to let his alarm show on his face.

"She was treated in your division, of course. If I am not mistaken, she is still there. What exactly is this about, taicho?" Byakuya deflected. At this, Unohana's eyes sharpened.

"Please do not insult me, Kuchiki-san. I have been captain of the Fourth for much longer than you have been alive. I can recognize the work of every shinigami in my division, and I assure you that Nakano-san was not treated by any of them. Or rather, she was treated by someone else first," Unohana amended.

"I’m not sure what you are getting at. Both Nakano-san and I reported in with only minor injuries," Byakuya stated firmly. A faint shadow crossed over Unohana's face and Byakuya manfully resisted the urge to cower under his desk or run away.  _Hisana, you had better appreciate this,_  he thought darkly.

"Again, I would thank you not to insult me or my skills by lying to me. Do you really think that I can't recognize puncture wounds when I see them? Whoever healed her did an admirable job of drawing out the poison, I admit. However, although the venom was completely gone there were still signs of the damage it did to the tissue. Likewise, the faint scar caused by the stitches was still visible." At this, Unohana paused and her expression softened.

"I do not mean your friend any harm, Kuchiki-san. I cannot make a detailed assessment of the poison without looking at it personally, but I can make an educated guess as to how it worked. The imagination and innovation required to come up with a technique to treat it, the amount of anatomy knowledge shown, and the precision and skill with which the wound was stitched together…I find myself impressed. I would not have expected anyone below eighth seat to show such capability." Despite himself, Byakuya felt a faint burst of pride for Hisana. Unohana Retsu was not someone who handed out praise lightly, after all.

"I am sorry, Unohana-taicho, but my friend does not wish for her identity to be known." There was really no reason to keep denying Hisana's existence at this point. "I owe her too much to go against her wishes." Unohana stared at him for a long moment.

"Your friend…she is not a shinigami."

It was not a question. Byakuya willed himself not to react as she smiled slightly.

"No need to pretend, Kuchiki-san. Anyone who learns healing kido in the Gotei 13 is taught a very specific way of how to treat the body. Even if we don't have verbal incantations, there are still standardized techniques and ways of manipulating and forming healing kido that every healer is taught. Your friend does not follow any of the usual medical practices and procedures, making it very obvious that she did not learn her skills here in the Seireitei."

Unohana paused slightly before continuing. "You are sure that you will not divulge her identity? I merely wish to meet her, as her techniques are…refreshingly unique. I'd like to know how she came about them."

"I will not." Byakuya's voice was firm.

"Very well," Unohana sighed. "I will not push then. However, if she does ever wish to become a shinigami, please tell her that there will be an opening in the Fourth Division waiting for her."

***

Four Months Later

Byakuya tilted the music box in his hands back and forth, observing it thoughtfully. It really was a beautifully crafted piece of wood. He'd seen it through the shop window of a well-respected antique store. When opened, it played a slightly melancholy tune—a duet between a harp and a flute. Sweet and pretty…Hisana would have liked it. Smiling wryly, he thought back to the stash of romance novels he'd found hidden in her bedroom during his visit six weeks ago.

_"…those are Kaori's," Hisana muttered, turning her head away. The faint flush on her cheeks gave her away. At his disbelieving look, she scowled heavily._

_"There's nothing wrong with liking romance novels, okay!" Hisana snapped, her face reddening further._

_"I never said there was," he said, trying not to grin and anger her by doing so. For such a tiny person, her punches sure hurt. "I just never took you for someone who would be a fan of…hmm, what was it again? Oh, right—'The Samurai's Lost Love'."_

_"Shut up you," her scowl deepened. "It's surprisingly well-written, alright? Don't judge me."_

_"It's fine, Hisana. You don't have to justify yourself to me. It's just…aren't those books a little unrealistic?"_

_She crossed her arms, frowning. "That's exactly why I like them. Because real life doesn't work like that. The characters in these books have the most ridiculous problems and logically should never end up together, but they do anyway. It's…nice to see, even if it's only in fiction. To see these two people go through countless troubles and heartbreak and still get a happy ending in the end."_

"Kuchiki-dono?" The voice of the shop owner startled him out of his thoughts. "Is the box to your liking? I have some more in the back room if that one does not suit your tastes."

"That won't be necessary," Byakuya said coolly, "This one will do."

"Of course, Kuchiki-dono, of course. I will get that settled for you right away," the shopkeeper said hastily, dipping into a deep bow. Byakuya bit back a sigh. It was only proper for a commoner to address him so formally of course, but sometimes, just sometimes, it got a bit…tedious. Unbidden, his mind drifted back to his second trip to Inuzuri. Hisana's blatant refusal to tack on a –sama or a –dono to the end of his name had been…unusual, to say the least. Jii-sama would be scandalized, Byakuya thought amusedly. He suddenly had a mental image of his grandfather and Hisana meeting and promptly winced. Maybe not yet.

As the shopkeeper rang up the price, Byakuya made a mental note never to tell Hisana the price of the antique. Last time had been bad enough, and it had only been a box of  _tea_.

_Byakuya watched with some worry as all the blood suddenly drained out of Hisana's face. Beside her, Rukia had started choking._

_"Wha-what did you say?" Renji sputtered, chin wet after having spewed the tea all over the table. Byakuya eyed his second…student of sorts disdainfully. "Abarai-kun, please control yourself. Your manners are absolutely disgraceful; I have taught you better than this." Renji ignored him completely and Byakuya resigned himself to the fact that his redheaded student would always be an uncultured buffoon._

_"I-I don't even see that much money in a year! Hell, even if ya combined the salaries of Kaori-nee-san, Kazuki-nii-san, Mitsuo-nii-san AND Hisana-nee-san, I probably STILL wouldn't see that much money in a year!"_

_Meanwhile, Rukia had stopped choking and now reached over to poke him on the cheek. Byakuya swatted her hand away irritably. "And what do you think you are doing, Rukia-chan?"_

_"Just checkin' to make sure you aren't made outta ivory or something. You're certainly pale enough." She seemed rather disappointed that Byakuya was not, in fact, composed of elephant tusk. "Hey Oni-sensei, when you cry, do you cry diamonds? No? How 'bout sapphires then? Or pearls?"_

_Hisana finally seemed to have recovered somewhat and pulled Rukia into her lap. "Stop that, Rukia, it's rude. And_ you," _she leveled a fierce glare on Byakuya. "Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT bring me something that expensive again. In fact, it's probably better that you don't bring me anything again. Gods, it's like you're_ trying  _to give me a heart attack."_

_"But did you like them?" He interrupted her rant. The bridge of her nose crinkled in confusion, and Byakuya tried really hard not to find that as endearing as he did._

_"Like what? My near-heart attacks? Because I really don't," she said crossly._

_"Your gifts. Did you like the books I gave you?" She hesitated and Byakuya had to fight down the smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth._

_"Well…I mean…that is to say…it's true that they were very helpful. And there was that absolutely fascinating chapter about adapting healing techniques for combat use-" Still sitting on Hisana's lap, Rukia suddenly groaned and smacked her forehead._

_"And the tea? You did enjoy it, yes?" Byakuya pressed on._

_"Um, it was admittedly very, uh, nice," Hisana said, casting a longing look towards the remainder of her tea in her cup._

_"Then I don't see what the problem was. So long as it makes you happy, it's worth every cent," Byakuya finished firmly. Hisana huffed, though Byakuya noticed with satisfaction that her cheeks were slightly pink._

_"Fine. Just don't bring me something so expensive again, you hear?"_

_"I promise that I won't spend more than ten percent of my weekly salary on you," he agreed magnanimously, deciding to leave out just how much money he actually earned in a week between his career in the Gotei 13 and being the Kuchiki heir._

"Byakuya-sama!" At hearing the familiar high-pitched voice, Byakuya grimaced and subtly tried to look for an escape route. Finding none, he sighed and braced himself.

"Amano-san," he said monotonously. "I was not expecting to see you here." If he had been, he'd be halfway across the Seireitei by now. Amano Fumiko, the only daughter of the Amano clan head. A medium level noble family, not as prestigious as the Kuchiki clan, but nonetheless known for their fast growing wealth and their influence in the merchant's sector. His grandmother had introduced him to the girl a few days ago and had insisted that they have lunch together. Subtle, his grandmother was not.

It had been one of the most excruciatingly awkward meals of his life…on his side at least. Amano hadn't seemed to notice, chattering away the entire time. By the end of the hour, he'd learned more about Naito Ichiro's affair with Kasada Jun than he'd ever wanted to know. Honestly, he had no idea why she was so happy to see him. He couldn't have been a good conversationalist, having barely said a dozen words the entire time.  _Money,_  he mused sardonically,  _could excuse a lot of faults._

Amano smiled up widely at him. It didn't reach her eyes. "Byakuya-sama, it's so nice to see you again!" She glanced at the music box he was holding. "Oh, that is a lovely piece of art, isn't it? I didn't know you were a fan of music."

"I like to indulge in it from time to time," Byakuya answered stiffly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting scheduled in half an hour. Duty calls, I'm sure you understand." He bowed politely towards her.

"On a weekend, Byakuya-sama?" She pouted. "How dull. You're always so busy—how do you ever get any free time?"

 _By hiding away in a small house seventy eight districts away,_ Byakuya thought dryly. Seemingly oblivious to Byakuya's tense state, Amano reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind one ear, shooting a coy smile at him.

"Where is your meeting taking place, Byakuya-sama? Perhaps I can accompany you there?" She asked. Looking around frantically, Byakuya nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of a familiar head of purple hair. It was quite possibly the only time he'd ever been glad to see the were-cat.

"Shihouin-taicho!" He called out, striding over to her. She looked up confused, before her eyes landed on Amano and comprehension lit her features. "How fortuitous. I was just about to head over to the meeting." He sent her a meaningful look.

"Indeed," she said, lips quirking and obviously entertained. "We had better hurry if we don't want to be late, Byakuya-bou."

Too relieved to even scowl at the nickname, Byakuya turned back to Amano and bowed again. "My apologies, Amano-san. Until next time." With pointed look towards Yoruichi, he turned around and began making his way towards the 6th Division. Yoruichi followed him at a much more sedate pace, looking positively amused. As soon as he was out of sight, Byakuya promptly took off at his fastest shunpo.

He paused on the roof of a building five streets away, Yoruichi stopping right on his heels. A second blur soon followed and Byakuya nearly groaned at the sight of the smaller figure trailing them, dressed in ninja black.

"Oh, Soi Fon!" Yoruichi called out brightly. "Sorry for taking off like that; I was just helping to rescue Byakuya-bou." Soi Fon narrowed her eyes at him.

"Was Kuchiki-san bothering you, Yoruichi-sama?" She asked, hand already twitching towards her zanpakuto. "If you want, I'll take care of him and you can get back to shopping."

"No need, my little bee," Yoruichi laughed. "This is too good to pass up. I think I'm done with shopping for the day. Can you bring my purchases back to the second?"

"Right away, Yoruichi-sama!" Soi-fon said determinedly, before shooting off in a shunpo even Byakuya had trouble following.

"She's getting really good at that," Yoruichi sighed proudly, before reaching out with one hand and snatching the back of Byakuya's shihakusho just as he was about to make his escape. "Nuh-uh, not so fast Byakuya-bou. Explain what I just saw there."

"Not that it is any of your business, but that was Amano-san."

"Amano…owner of the majority of Seireitei's clothing stores, Amano?" She mused. "And I'm guessing yet another one of your love-conquests. She seemed awfully determined to get you alone, Byakuya-bou." Spinning him around, she reached up and pinched his right cheek playfully. "I'm so proud…my little Byakuya, growing up to be such a ladies man!"

Gritting his teeth, Byakuya resisted the urge to release his shikai on the stupid cat-lady. He wasn't  _a hundred_  any more. "Let go of me! Do you have any functional brain cells in that demented mind of yours? Did it _look_  like Amano-san and I were romantically involved?"

"Hmm…maybe not," she said, tapping her index finger against her chin thoughtfully. "But that doesn't explain what you have in your hand."

He blinked, looking down at the music box he'd almost forgotten about.

"It's for me," Byakuya said automatically, pushing down the urge to hide it behind his back like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "I am not allowed to enjoy music now, Shihouin-taicho?"

"Mmm," she eyed him skeptically. "I know that your shikai takes the form of cherry blossoms, but I've known you for over a century now and you don't seem the type to purchase a music box with flowers engraved on it. Its design is a bit…feminine, even for you. Try again, kid." Once again, Byakuya was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that despite all appearances, Yoruichi was head of the Omnitsukido for a reason.

"One of my cousin's birthdays is coming up," he deflected. It was true after all, and the best lies were lies of omission. Unfortunately, Yoruichi had been the one to teach him that. She smiled indulgently at him and Byakuya resisted the urge to scowl.

"While pretty, it's not quite expensive enough to be given as a gift to any noble, which narrows down the suspect pool considerably. I would have thought maybe the Nakano girl you've been seen with a few times, but she has a boyfriend and I doubt he'd take too kindly to you giving her gifts. Not to mention I'm pretty sure if you  _were_  interested in her romantically, you wouldn't be calling each other 'Nakano-san' and 'Kuchiki-sama'. So that rules out Nakano Rin."

Her gaze sharpened. "The interesting thing is, if you  _did_  behave differently with a girl, it would be all over Seireitei by now. So that means…how long have you been seeing someone from the Rukongai, Byakuya-kun?"

"That's ridiculous," Byakuya scoffed. Hisana was only a friend…right? Perhaps his closest friend, but not someone he'd ever looked at in  _that way._  For god's sake, they'd only met each other a few times. This wasn't one of those stupid romance novels Hisana liked to read. Ignoring the uneasy feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Yoruichi. "I admit that this is a gift for someone I met outside of the Seireitei. However, you're mistaken in thinking that I have any romantic intentions towards her."

"Then why the present?" Yoruichi asked, eyes narrowed. "That's a bit out of character for you, kid."

"Is it not customary to bring gifts to friends after spending a period of time apart?" Byakuya retorted. "I am only being polite."

"Right." Yoruichi said, clearly unconvinced. "Just tell me this, Byakuya-kun. Is she forcing you into this? Or are you only doing this out of some sense of guilt?" Her reiatsu abruptly cooled, stilling dangerously. "It doesn't matter what information she has over you, you know. Just say the word, and I'll take care of it."

"What? No!" Byakuya yelped, composure briefly slipping. Yoruichi thought that Hisana was  _blackmailing_ him? Or manipulating him? "God, no. She's one of the most infuriatingly selfless people I've ever met. She'd kill me if she knew how much this thing cost." Or at the very least, throw it at his head.  _Irrational midget,_  he thought fondly.

Yoruichi stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. "Clueless moron," she muttered. "Great, now I feel bad for this girl and I've never even met her."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Byakuya asked, abruptly anxious. "She's not really the type to like attention drawn to her."

"Relax, Byakuya-bou. Share a secret this good? Nah, I'm going to keep this one for myself," she said grinning. "However, in exchange…you tell me about her. I'm curious what kind of girl managed to befriend  _the_ Kuchiki heir." Her tone suddenly turned thoughtful. "Say, this wouldn't be the same girl who had you so preoccupied a few months back, would it?"

"Yes it is—although I  _do not_  have a so-called 'crush' on her," Byakuya was quick to add. "I'm not going to tell you her name," he said warningly. "The last thing I want is for you to track her down and bother her."

"Aww…but there are so many great stories I could tell her about you!" Yoruichi pouted. "But don't worry kiddo, I won't ask for any specifics. Just general facts. If it makes you feel better, I'm not speaking as Captain of the 2nd Division right now, but as your Yoruichi-oba-san. No shinigami business, I promise."

"Alright," Byakuya relented. Despite how impossibly  _frustrating_  and  _annoying_  she could be at times, Shihouin Yoruichi  _was_  one of the few people in the Seireitei that he trusted wholeheartedly. If nothing else, he believed that she had his best interests at heart.

"So I met her a little over half a year ago-"

~Fifteen minutes later~

"—and she has this big family too, although I'm fairly convinced most of them dislike me." Dislike probably wasn't a strong enough word. Whenever he was around, Kazuki spent most of his time in plain view sharpening his sword and staring at him meaningfully. Whenever Kaori cooked dinner, his food alternated between overwhelmingly bland and unbearably salty…he'd even tried a bite of Hisana's meal for comparison purposes and hers had been perfectly seasoned. He'd learned not to eat/drink anything Mitsuo handed him period after the first time he caught Mitsuo slipping an unknown powder into his water.

As for Miwa, after the fiasco with Nakano's injury, it was probably for the best that Hisana was the one who always treated him. While always unfailingly polite to him in front of her Shishou, whenever he was injured, Miwa often 'accidentally' handed Hisana the scalpel instead of what she actually asked for along with the most painful disinfectants. As it was, she also tended to mysteriously develop deafness whenever he happened to ask her for something.

The worst, however, were his own students. Whenever he got up in the morning, Renji would rush past him into the bathroom and then refuse to come out for at least half an hour. Both of his students seemed to suddenly become about four times as clumsy whenever he was in the vicinity. Honestly, Byakuya had lost count of the number of times Renji or Rukia would be carrying a heavy object and suddenly 'trip' towards his direction. When Hisana had been…recovering from healing Nakano's injury, Rukia had almost dumped a pot of boiling water on his lap. He'd dodged, of course, and Rukia had received an earful from both Kaori and Mitsuo and a subtle high five from Kazuki later but…he'd never told Hisana about that. If nothing else, at least that one he'd deserved.

"She sounds like a pretty cool girl," Yoruichi commented, a strange smile on her face. "I don't think I've heard you talk this much in years, Byakuya-bou."

Byakuya blinked in surprise, just now noticing how dry his throat was. Nakano-san knew about Hisana, of course, but despite the fact that their relationship had grown closer, she was still his subordinate and he was still her commanding officer. They were friendly, but they weren't…friends. They weren't equals. Yoruichi on the other hand was much closer to his social status and they'd known each other for years. Additionally, despite her position as head of the Shihouin clan, Yoruichi had never really been one for formalities. Hell, she walked around as a male cat half the time and still called him 'Byakuya-bou.' He didn't have to worry about her disapproval.

Talking about Hisana with someone had been…nice, Byakuya supposed. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her.

"It's hard to believe that I've only known her for a few months," Byakuya agreed. That was the thing with Hisana, though. With her, things just came…naturally. He didn't have to try with her.

"I do have one question however," Yoruichi glanced at him. "If she means so much to you, why let her stay in the Rukongai? It would be easy enough for you to gain her access inside. I'm sure you at least have an idea what life outside the city walls is like—why leave her there?" He blinked in surprise at the question. It wasn't that he hadn't  _thought_  about it before—of course he had, since the moment she'd held him helpless at sword-point and had set him free instead—and indeed, his primary purpose for returning had been to offer her a place in the Seireitei. A way out that, in the end, she hadn't needed.

"Because she's never needed a hero," he murmured after a moment of contemplation. "And she'd hate me for making her a damsel in distress." Byakuya smiled at Yoruichi's widened eyes. "She's doing just fine—more than fine—where she is. If she ever needed my help, I would offer it in an instant, but until then…she doesn't need me to rescue her."

***

Another Six Months Later

"Byakuya-bou!" Byakuya resisted the urge to bang his forehead on his desk as Yoruichi charged into the room, eyes bright.  _You are the heir to the Kuchiki clan,_  he reminded himself,  _you have dignity, you have pride…ah, screw it._

"What do you want?" He groaned. Ever since he'd told Yoruichi about Hisana, the damn cat-woman just wouldn't leave him alone. It was always 'So when are you going to see her again?' or 'Hey, are you ever going to invite her to the Seireitei? Just for a short visit?'. After his last visit, she'd hounded him until he'd finally relented and let her help pick out Hisana's next present.

"So? Did she like the necklace?" Yoruichi asked excitedly. "Come on Byakuya-bou, give me something to work with here. Your first close female friend, outside of…well, me." Additionally, she'd also worked out that Hisana lived somewhere in the outer districts of South Rukongai ("It wasn't exactly that hard.  _No one_ likes going all the way out there and you've volunteered for practically every mission in that general direction. Frankly, I'm amazed no one else has worked it out."). Byakuya supposed he should count himself lucky that she hadn't narrowed it down to Inuzuri.

"Well, she took it only slightly worse than the music box," Byakuya said dryly.

"The music box…didn't she give you a hug and thank you for about two minutes before punching you in the face?" Yoruichi asked. Byakuya winced, his right eye throbbing at the memory.

"She apologized after," and healed him as well, though Yoruichi still didn't know about Hisana's healing abilities.

"I'm liking this girl more and more already," Yoruichi said smirking. "So tell me, how'd she react?" It had been a beautiful necklace, simple and elegant—a white gold phoenix wrapped around a teardrop shaped jade pendant of the highest quality; against the shine of the phoenix, the pale translucent green had almost seemed to glow with a subtle brilliance. The entire thing lay suspended on an elegant chain, white gold to match the phoenix. It was lovely, something both he and Yoruichi could agree on…and very obviously expensive.

"Oh, she stormed off, ignored me for two hours before calling me 'hopeless' and smacked me on the head. I caught her wearing it when I left though, so I think she liked it."

Yoruichi laughed delightedly. "She sounds like a complete tsundere, Byakuya-kun. It's adorable." Which, Byakuya supposed, had a grain of truth in it. About the only people Hisana  _wasn't_  emotionally awkward around were children, her family, and her patients.

"So am I ever going to meet her?" Yoruichi continued. Wonderful, this again. They had repeated this conversation twelve times in the past month.

"As I have already informed you, it is not exactly easy to plan a visit," Byakuya said, his voice cooling a degree. "The travel distance alone is four days using shunpo, and if she entered as my guest, it would attract attention to her that she neither wants nor needs. She would never get a moment's peace. You know that, Shihouin-taicho."

"Mmm, but if she was okay with it?" Yoruichi asked, a speculative look in her eye. "Would you bring her in then?"

"Then I would love to show her around," Byakuya answered. "However, she has never expressed an interest in seeing my home, so this topic is pointless to discuss." His lips turned down a fraction. Most people he came across practically salivated for an opportunity to glimpse the inside of the 'mysterious Kuchiki grounds.' The closest Hisana had come to expressing an interest was saying, "Wait, you have  _how_ many ponds on your property? Can you swim in them?" But then again, Hisana could never be accused of being 'most people.'

"You know, there's one thing I've noticed, Byakuya-bou," Yoruichi commented. "Whenever I ask you to bring her over, it's always 'it would be inconvenient for her' or 'I don't want her to have to deal with the attention.' You've never once said that it would be troublesome for  _you."_

"I am more than capable of dealing with any repercussions from my actions," Byakuya answered stiffly.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought of how bringing in an outsider would affect his own reputation. His grandfather would almost certainly disapprove. His grandmother would be furious. And even  _thinking_ about the elders' potential reaction made him wince. But somehow, whenever he thought about showing her around the Kuchiki grounds (Would she like the gardens? He'd probably have to keep her from jumping into a pond and trying to pet a fish or something), or showing her around the 13 Court Guard Squads (He'd have to keep her away from Unohana-taicho—the thought of them meeting or gods forbid,  _becoming friends_ terrified him a little), or taking her to his family library (He'd probably have to drag her back out), his family's approval didn't seem to matter so much.

It wasn't like he'd be breaking any  _rules,_ Byakuya mused, so he'd be keeping his promise to his parents. And really, it wasn't any of his family's business who he decided to be friends with. Besides, it was only natural that he want to bring her here. She had accepted him into her home without asking any questions, her only condition being that he give Rukia and Renji a few lessons; of course he'd want to repay the favor.

"I can think of more than a few people who would be very unhappy about your actions," Yoruichi said mildly. "Your grandmother for one. That Amano girl—as well as the Fujiwara heiress, the Yamato girl and the Minamoto clan's youngest daughter—would be devastated. Your grandfather might be more accepting, but I don't see him being all that happy either. Not that I don't want to meet your mysterious lady friend—I do—but is associating with this girl really worth all that trouble?"

"I couldn't care less what Amano-san and the others thought. They are of no interest to me," Byakuya said coldly. "My grandmother will eventually learn to accept that I am an adult now, and am capable of making my own decisions. Just because my views differ from hers at times, it does not mean that I do not have the Kuchiki clan's best interests at heart. As for my grandfather…I trust that he would come around in time."

"Hmm, just making sure. Your grandparents would want me to caution you further against making rash decisions but…I can see that you've put a lot of thought into this. I'm proud of you, Byakuya," Yoruichi said softly, putting a hand on his arm affectionately—for once leaving out the childish honorific. "This girl, whoever she is, is lucky to have you gained your loyalty." With that, she left Byakuya to his thoughts. Even after Yoruichi was long gone, Byakuya turned her words over in his head thoughtfully.

It was strange. Something was bothering him about Yoruichi's choice of words—she hadn't said Hisana was lucky to have gained his  _friendship._ No, Yoruichi had used the word  _loyalty_ instead. It wouldn't have sounded strange to any commoner, but to a noble…well, Shihouin Yoruichi knew better than anyone that among the aristocracy, loyalty was prized above all else. Loyalty to the clan, loyalty to the 13 Court Guard Squads…it was valued over friendship or even  _love._ It was a small detail, but…Byakuya shook his head, choosing to forget about the matter. Shihouin Yoruichi was a woman of many eccentricities; it probably wouldn't do to dwell upon it too much.

***

~Another Three Months Later~

Kuchiki Ginrei looked up as his grandson entered his office, handing in his mission reports for the week. Looking down at the top page, he resisted the urge to sigh.

"Another mission request? It's only been a few days since your last one," he said disapprovingly. "And to the 74th district of South Rukongai as well?"

"There are no other officers currently available that are capable of accomplishing this mission on their own," Byakuya replied. "It would be a waste of resources to send an entire team of shinigami when it would be more efficient to send me."

"If you didn't lead just as many team missions, I would worry about your penchant towards wandering off on your own in the Rukongai for weeks on end," Ginrei commented, voice faintly admonishing.

"The distance alone makes it impractical to send more than one or two shinigami, especially if they are not accomplished in shunpo. As someone who has trained extensively with Shihouin-taicho herself, I am the reasonable choice to send."

"Right," Ginrei eyed Byakuya shrewdly. "And am I to also assume that this latest request for a long-term mission has nothing to do with the meeting you have next week with Fujimoto-san?" Byakuya stiffened and Ginrei sighed somewhat exasperatedly.

"You know that your grandmother only has your best interests at heart, Byakuya. And Fujimoto-san is a pleasant young woman—it would not hurt for you to get to know her better."

"Fujimoto-san is…nice enough," Byakuya spoke haltingly. "However, I simply cannot see her in the way that obaa-sama wishes me to. I believe that it would be unfair to both myself and Fujimoto-san to pretend otherwise." Ginrei's expression softened slightly.

"It is not a commitment, grandson, simply a way for you so socialize more with women your own age. Do not look upon your grandmother's actions too harshly, Byakuya. She simply wants to have some grandchildren to dote on in the future. As do I." Despite himself, Byakuya felt his face warming and Ginrei chuckled lightly. "But if you are really so averse to another meeting with Fujimoto-san, I will approve this mission and have a talk with your grandmother about easing up a little. However, answer me honestly. Is there truly no girl who has caught your attention? You are young still and you still have time, but is there really no one who you would not mind taking as a companion? I know that arranged marriages are common in our clan, but I would rather you end up in a match that would make you happy."

For a moment, sparkling blue-violet eyes and a warm smile flashed across his mind. Frustrated, Byakuya pushed the image away roughly and turned to look his grandfather in the eye.

"There is no one," he stated firmly. "May I be dismissed, taicho?"

"Wait a moment, Byakuya. There is something else I'd like to speak to you about," Ginrei said, tone abruptly turning serious. Byakuya paused.

"Is something the matter, taicho?" He asked his grandfather warily. Ginrei smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Not at all, Byakuya. And I have told you, you may call me grandfather here when we are alone."

"Very well, jii-sama," Byakuya acknowledged with a nod. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"

"Take a seat," the elderly head of the Kuchiki Clan motioned with one hand towards the chair in front of him, then poured a cup of tea and handed it to Byakuya.

"You have been serving in this division for almost three decades now," Ginrei began as Byakuya accepted the tea with a faint sound of gratitude. "And you have always been an exemplary example of what a Sixth Division officer should be. These past few months especially, you have taken it upon yourself to accept some of the most challenging missions that have come through, and have managed to complete them with minimal injuries." Looking down at his tea contemplatively, he missed the uncomfortable look that briefly crossed Byakuya's face. "I have been thinking…you are still young, not even a century and a half old yet, but you have shown admirable responsibility and competency for someone of your age. I think…yes, it is about time that I gained a new lieutenant. Your father's old seat has gone empty for long enough, don't you agree?"

At this, Byakuya stilled, unable to prevent the shock from showing on his face. "Jii-sama," he breathed out, "you don't mean…what about Shirogane-san?" At this, Byakuya's grandfather chuckled.

"Shirogane Ginjirou may be my third seat, but he is also getting on in years. I had discussed the matter with him several months back and he adamantly insisted that you were better suited for the position." Ginrei stood up, walking over to Byakuya's side and placed a reassuring hand on to Byakuya's shoulder. "You have done me proud, both as a member of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, and as my grandson. I could not have asked for more," he stated fondly.

"Then, jii-sama…I would be honored to accept the position," Byakuya stated solemnly, inwardly touched. He stood up and dipped into a low bow.

"No need to bow before me, grandson," Ginrei said gently. There was a brief pause. "You've grown up into a fine man. Your parents would be proud if they could see you here today, Byakuya. Never doubt that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please leave a review on your way out :)
> 
> Follow me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing


	11. Chapter 11

 

Byakuya stopped by another three times that year—each time bringing me progressively more expensive gifts, I really had to figure out a way to stop that ‘tradition’—though each time he only stayed for three or four days at most. It wasn’t until the beginning of January that things changed.

“You know,” I sighed, patching up his cracked ribs, “I’m beginning to think that we’re simply incapable of meeting under normal circumstances.” Swatting Byakuya’s hand away as he tried to prod at his bandages, I gently tilted his head up and peered into his eyes to check if they were still dilated. They weren’t; good.

“A few cracked ribs isn’t that bad. I get more injuries during sparring,” he sniffed.

“I can see that. A broken leg, a sprained wrist, and a minor skull fracture since I last saw you? Really, Byakuya?”

“How can you tell?” He asked curiously. “I made a full recovery weeks ago.”

“Even the most minor injuries leave signs,” I answered absently, wiping the dirt away from a cut on his arm. “Scar tissue, stretched ligaments, a slight weakness in the bone around a fracture site…granted, unlike in the living world, most of them fade after a while, but I can still tell if you’ve been hurt recently.” Wrapping a bandage around the final cut, I stepped back in satisfaction. “There. How do you feel?”

“Well enough,” he said. “As always, thank you Hisana.”

“You’re welcome,” I answered, before promptly slugging him in the shoulder. “You idiot. What happened to being more careful? What if I wasn’t here? Then you’d be stuck breathing painfully for _weeks,_ you reckless moron.”

“Actually, I probably would have healed in a day or two. Maybe less,” he corrected smugly. Only the little bit of professionalism I had left prevented me from punching him again, in the ribs this time.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your ‘I’m a fourth-seat, I heal faster than most people due to my stupidly high spirit energy’ spiel, I’ve heard it all before,” I grumbled.

“Actually,” he said, a slow grin spreading over his face, “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve recently been promoted.” I gaped at him and thought back to all the conversations we had about the Gotei 13, Byakuya’s squad in particular—as far as I knew, there was only one open seat below captain rank and above fourth seat in the 6th Division. “You mean…?”

“You’re looking at the 6th Division’s new lieutenant,” he said, trying to look unaffected but failing due to the proud smile that kept tugging at the corners of his mouth. I spent all of another two seconds staring at him with wide eyes before staggering backwards to sit on the bed.

“Oh my god,” I said, mouth open. “I…I don’t know what to say. Oh dear god. Those poor shinigami.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Byakuya asked, an expression of such extreme indignation crossing his face that I had to turn away in order to keep from laughing.

“I’m just saying that now that you have the authority of a vice-captain, you’re going to run your officers into the _ground._ ” I explained, trying my best to suppress a smile. “By the time you’re through with them, every shinigami in the division except your grandfather will be cursing your name. I can see it now—‘10th seat-san, I observed your spar the other day and could not help but notice that your technique is completely abominable. In order to rectify this, I have taken the liberty of scheduling for you three consecutive hours of training per day for the next two weeks with the 11th division,” I mocked in a pitiful imitation of Byakuya’s voice.

“I certainly do not sound like that,” Byakuya retorted in an affronted tone. “This is slander.”

I laughed and leaned over to wrap my arms around him in a tight hug, maneuvering my body so that my weight didn’t rest on his ribs. “Rukia and Renji would disagree. But in all seriousness, I am happy for you. You’re going to make a wonderful vice-captain, Byakuya.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, shifting so that I rested more comfortably against his side. “Thank you. Now enough about me—how are the others doing? Have my wayward students been keeping up with their training? And Miwa? Is she well?” I snorted.

“Well, a few days after your last visit some idiot tried to grope Kaori in a bar—the bar Kazuki works at, coincidentally enough—being too drunk to know better. I suppose you can guess how that turned out.”

Byakuya’s eyes glinted with humor. “Truly? Did the man survive?”

“He did…barely. I was tempted not to treat him,” I admitted. Though in the end, rubbing salt into his wounds for ‘disinfecting purposes’ had been too tempting to pass up. “But long story short, before Kaori could even draw her sword, Kazuki had already thrown him against a wall, punched him enough times to shatter his nose and knock most of his teeth out, and then proclaimed to everyone around that the next person who hit on Kaori would receive a sword to the groin. Then Kaori walked up, punched Kazuki in the face, said that she was tired of him ‘being too damn chicken to make a move’ and proceeded to initiate a heavy make out session.” Rukia had gone around repeating the story to anyone who’d listen for _weeks_ with stars in her eyes.

“It was all very romantic,” I added, smiling slightly. “Well, it was when I first heard about it. It became less so when I had to move myself, Mitsuo, Rukia, Renji and Miwa to the clinic for the next month.”

“Why…?” He began, before realization hit. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I nodded sagely. “They’re very…loud, you could say.” I had learned more about Kazuki and Kaori’s sex lives during their ‘honeymoon-period’ than I’d ever wanted to know. “I thought that Mitsuo was going to snap and murder them the first few days. That, or cut off his own ears.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Byakuya nodded, looking faintly ill. I rolled my eyes, but decided to take pity on him and change the subject.

“Mitsuo’s doing pretty good for himself too. His dojo is doing well and he’s thinking about expanding. Miwa is progressing nicely in her studies. She can now read simple books, and her skill with herbal remedies is almost as good as mine; not to mention, she has a real knack for coming up with new ones,” I smiled proudly. While she didn’t have the same levels of reiatsu that I did, or the same instinctive grasp of it, I had no doubt that her skill with creating salves and poultices would eventually surpass my own.

“She can also heal minor to mildly-serious injuries in animals on her own now. I’ve had her test reiatsu techniques on me for the past few weeks, and she’s getting to the point where she’ll be ready to treat human patients in a few months.”

 My smile faded slightly. “It’ll be nice to have another healer around here. Just in case I’m ever not around.”

“Oh? Are you ever planning to leave?” Byakuya asked, seemingly disinterested. I looked up in surprise, distracted from my increasingly morbid thoughts. “Leave Inuzuri?” To be honest, I’d never really considered it. “And go where? I mean, I know it’s one of the poorest districts, but it’s not a guarantee that life will get better if I go elsewhere. Here, at least, people have gotten used to the idea of me being a healer. It’d take decades to gain that kind of reputation back if I went to another district.”

“Not another district. The Seireitei,” Byakuya corrected, looking at me intently. I gaped at him in disbelief.

 “No way,” I scoffed, pushing him lightly. “I never took you as someone to talk about impossibilities, Byakuya.”

“Why would you think it’s an impossibility?” He asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“Come on, _everyone_ knows how hard it is to get inside. The only way to get into it from Rukongai is by becoming a shinigami, or by entering the academy and _then_ becoming a shinigami. As I have no desire to do either, it’s a moot point. Besides,” I mused thoughtfully, “I could never leave my family. I know Rukia and Renji will be going in a few decades, but I have a responsibility here. Inuzuri may be filled with thieves and thugs and criminals of every kind, but…there are people I’ve come to care for.” Reo, the owner of the fish stand. Ichiraku, who gave me a week’s worth of free ramen every time my birthday came around. Mori, who still gave me free drinks whenever I stopped by. Reiko and Mai, who always shared the latest gossip with me. That wasn’t even including Kazuki, Kaori and Mitsuo.

“It _would_ be pretty cool to see the Seireitei though, at least once,” I added. “I’m curious to see which rumors are true.”

“Rumors?” Byakuya asked curiously.

“Yeah…like the one saying that the doors to the Seireitei are guarded by giants tall enough to touch the sky. Or the one saying that the Captain of the 11th is actually a demon disguised as a human.” I grinned mischievously at him. “And the one saying that the Kuchiki manor is large enough to fit three quarters of the population in Seireitei and is made entirely of silver, diamond and gold.”

“I’ll have you know that the Kuchiki property is large enough to fit the _entire_ population of Seireitei inside. And we would never use something as… _gaudy_ as gold to construct our buildings. No, we use the wood of prized mahogany trees that are carefully cultivated over a series of centuries,” Byakuya sniffed in a tone of faux-indignation.

“The scary thing is, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, you rich bastard,” I grumbled, leaning back against his chest.

“Would I lie to you, Hisana?” He chuckled, amused. “The other two rumors you mentioned are true enough, however. The Seireitei _is_ guarded by four giants, one on each side. I’m not sure if they’re tall enough to ‘touch the sky’ but they are larger than any other person. And the new Captain of the 11 th could definitely be said to be a demon. He fits the description well enough.” Byakuya paused, before hesitantly adding, “I would very much like to take you to see it someday.” I stilled, before sitting up to stare at him in shock.

“Is that even allowed?” I asked cautiously.

“Seated officers are permitted to bring in visitors, although it is not strictly approved of,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably.

“And your family is just okay with that? You bringing in some random girl from one of the poorest areas in the Rukongai? Somehow I don’t see them approving,” I said dubiously. “Don’t get me wrong, Byakuya, I’d love to go with you. Miwa’s getting good enough that she’d be able to handle me being gone for a week or two, and a small vacation definitely sounds nice. But even if I don’t care about your titles or whatever, other people do. Your friendship with me would only hurt your reputation.”

“What, that I’ve made friends with someone not of the aristocracy?” He scoffed. “If anything, it’d only make me seem more approachable. And no one has disapproved of my acquaintance with Nakano Rin despite the fact that she is also from the Rukongai.”

“Yeah, but she’s your subordinate. It’s _expected_ that you be at least on speaking terms with some of the shinigami under your command, former Rukongai resident or not,” I pointed out. “Think about it some more, Byakuya. If you say it’s going to be fine, then I’ll trust your judgment and consider it.”

“Very well then,” Byakuya agreed before a mischievous gleam entered his eyes. “Now, where’s my bag? I brought you the most _wonderful_ gift, wait until you see it--”

Jumping up, I grabbed the nearest pillow and furiously whacked him over the head with it as the sound of his laughter filled the room.

***

“What do you mean, he’s gonna be here for a _week?_ ” Rukia demanded, scowling at the futon I’d already cleared for him.

“Exactly what it sounds like, imouto. He finished his mission early, so he has some time before he has to go back,” I sighed. “Rukia, Byakuya has been over numerous times now. I don’t understand why this is such a big issue for you.”

“Because I don’t understand what he wants!” She burst out. “Like, for his past few visits he kept getting you presents. I mean, they’re nice, but what’s he expecting in return?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said fondly, reaching over and pulling her into a hug. “I’m touched by your concern, imouto, but you know Byakuya isn’t like that. And even if he was, there’s nothing he could possibly want from me that he wouldn’t be able to get himself.” I laughed softly to myself, feeling a bit dejected all of a sudden for some reason I couldn’t name. “What could I offer the man who has everything, after all?”

That was another reason (the main reason, if I was being honest) why receiving Byakuya’s gifts made me uneasy. I understood that he meant them in the best possible way, and that he gave me things to make me happy—it wasn’t an act of pity or charity. Not to mention I really did enjoy his presents; he’d obviously put a great deal of thought into each one and they were all lovely. And yet…each one was a reminder that Byakuya came from a world I had never known, in either of my lives—one where money flowed like water, tea smelled as fragrant as the orchards they were grown in, and priceless gems were as common as ordinary rocks. It wasn’t the lifestyle that bothered me, it was the fact that it was so _obviously_ different from my own _._ Every time I thought about it—something that happened more and more often—I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell Byakuya was spending so much time _here,_ in a small house barely larger than a cabin, in a district so different from the world he was accustomed to it might as well be on another planet.

It made me feel self-conscious. I didn’t like it.

Rukia pulled back frowning. “He doesn’t have everything, nee-chan. He doesn’t have _you.”_

I paused, one hand stilling in the middle of stroking her hair. “Is that what this is about? You think I’ll like him better if he keeps giving me gifts?” I pulled her tighter against me. “I thought you knew me better than that. Even if someone offered me all the gold and wealth in the world, you’d still be my number one.”

               

 ***

“Hey, you guys have been in there for a while now. There are oranges in the kitchen if any of you wanted a snack…” My voice trailed off as I took in the sight before me. Both Rukia and Renji were frowning deeply in concentration, while Miwa was standing off to the side looking faintly bemused.

“The hell is going on?” I’d say that it was a meditation exercise except…well, I’d certainly never seen anyone look so frustrated while meditating. Rukia’s jaw was clenched and she seemed to be grinding her teeth, and there were deep furrows in Renji’s brow as he scowled fiercely.

“Shh, Shishou,” Miwa whispered, walking up to me, “Kuchiki-san is giving them a lesson right now.”

“What kind of lesson is this? ‘How to Look Constipated 101’? He’s not even in the room!” I muttered.

“Ah…Kuchiki-san had them--” Miwa began, only to be cut off by Rukia’s triumphant shout. “I got it! I finally found him! He’s--”

“Right here,” A voice came dryly from behind me. Miwa flinched back in surprise and I sent a glare towards Byakuya.

“Did you really have to sneak up on us so quietly?” I grumbled. “I’d rather you didn’t give my apprentice a heart attack. They’re rather troublesome to fix.” Byakuya raised an eyebrow at me.              

“It’s an unfortunate, but necessary part of today’s training. This was supposed to be a lesson in sensing reiatsu signatures. One that they failed miserably in, I must say,” he said. Renji growled.

“Maybe it says something about your teaching skills then, Oni-sensei! Ever thought about that? Besides, do you know how hard it is to find someone when they’re surrounded by other people?”

“Kuchiki-san was supposed to go somewhere in a half mile radius, and Rukia and Renji were supposed to find him just by tracking his spirit energy. They had an hour to do so, and, well…they kind of failed,” Miwa finished explaining sheepishly.

“Indeed.” Byakuya remarked, casting an admonishing look at his two students. “The ability to sense reiatsu is an essential skill for a shinigami. Not only to find hollows, but also to keep track of your opponent in a fight. Relying on Denreishinki or other hollow-tracking devices—while convenient—is not always reliable. Today’s task was merely to show you how much room you still have to improve. I did not expect you to be able to sense me from over fifty feet away. Nonetheless, by the end of this week, you should be more than capable of tracking the reiatsu signature of a higher-level shinigami who you are already familiar with in an area surrounded by people with little to no spirit energy. But for now, you may take a break.”

“Huh,” I muttered when it was just me and Byakuya left in the room. “That does sound like a useful skill. If you don’t mind, I think that I’d like to join in on your lessons this week.”

“I’d have thought you already knew how to sense reiatsu signatures. You certainly seem to know where your family is at all times,” Byakuya commented. “Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that you weren’t caught off guard by my appearance earlier.” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly.

“I mean…I sort of have it down? There’s definite room to improve though.” At Byakuya’s questioning look, I added, “I can’t do it with everyone, only people I’m pretty familiar with. Rukia’s easy—sometimes I think that I know Rukia’s spirit energy better than my own so as long as she’s within Inuzuri and its surrounding areas, I’ll be able to find her. Renji I’ve known for over a decade now, so I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his too. As for Miwa, I spent the past year or so working with her every day to find and control her reiatsu, so it’s not exactly hard to pick hers out of a crowd either. Mitsuo, Kaori and Kazuki are a lot harder—I can tell when they’re in the same room as me, but I can’t really distinguish between them as well as the others.”

Sensing reiatsu signatures was…weird. There was really no other way of describing it. As corny as it sounded, feeling other peoples’ spirit energy was a bit like…tasting a part of their soul, only instead of flavors there were sensory impressions.

“Your energy is a bit different than theirs though,” I added, sitting down on a tatami mat and motioning for him to join me. I mean, everyone’s signature was subtly different, but there was something a bit… _more_ to Byakuya’s. Even when he was suppressing most of it—I wasn’t stupid, I doubted that I’d ever felt the true extent of his spirit energy—it was pretty difficult to ignore. He nodded, not seeming very surprised.

“As a shinigami, my reiatsu should feel a bit different than that of plus souls, even pluses with above average spirit energy. You’ve probably noticed that hollows feel different as well,” Byakuya continued. I hummed in agreement; I’d learned how to sense hollows relatively early on so that I knew when to get the hell out of dodge.

“Their spirit energy…it’s always so _hungry,”_ I shuddered, thinking of that raw, consuming, _voracious_ edge that hollow reiatsu was tinged with. “It’s like they’re…incomplete and because of that, they’re never full.” Parched throats, hollow stomachs, the emptiness of a broken clock…that was what hollows felt like. 

“Exactly,” Byakuya nodded solemnly. “Like with hollows, pluses and shinigami also feel different. No matter how much spirit energy someone has, a soul with a zanpakuto spirit will always feel a bit more…intense, shall we say. Though each shinigami’s signature is subtly different, the underlying foundation of every shinigami’s reiatsu is still the same. Similarly, the spirit energy of pluses is built upon a different type of foundation.”

“Huh…so that’s why it’s so much easier to tell between different races than it is to tell between individuals of the same race. It’s like shinigami are oranges, regular pluses are apples and hollows are bananas. It’s easy to tell between fruits, but then within each category the fruits are slightly different. Maybe pluses with high spirit energy are like red apples, the ones with medium energy are green, the rest are yellow apples. And then each red apple is slightly different from other red apples…and some of them eventually evolve into oranges?” I mused, turning the concept over in my head. Next to me, Byakuya palmed his face.

“Hisana, I respect you greatly and you have many talents, but making analogies is not one of them.” He cut in, expression faintly pained. I ignored him. He just wasn’t ready for my genius.

“Rukia, of course, is the shiniest, reddest most _perfect_ apple of them all,” I continued, smiling proudly. “Then there’s Renji, who’d make a large bulky apple; a solid brick red, but surprisingly sweet on the inside. Miwa would be a lovely green.”

“What do they feel like to you?” Byakuya asked softly. I leaned back against the wall and tilted my head thoughtfully.

“It’s hard to describe—sun glittering on snow, children laughing during a game of tag, ice melting on the tongue during a hot summer day, feeling the wind blow against your face, stinging your cheeks accompanied by the feeling of being _alive—_ that’s what Rukia feels like to me.  Renji is—I don’t know—the sound of firecrackers going off, the heat of a bonfire in the middle of the night, the soreness that comes from exercising too hard, the bark of a guard dog. Miwa feels like the soothing coolness of a damp towel on a fevered forehead, the sugar in a bitter tea, the scribbles from a child’s first attempt at writing, the sound of rain falling against the windowpanes.” I looked up, suddenly embarrassed at how... _maudlin_ I was sounding. Had I always been this dramatic? “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I normally don’t ramble so much,” I apologized, cheeks warming slightly. “Ignore my babbling, please.”

“No—you did a good job at describing what cannot really be put into words,” he said smiling. “I am curious though as to what you think of mine.” Against my will, I flushed. Stupid pale skin.

“That’s a rather…personal question, don’t you think?” I hedged.

“Why? You had no problems with describing Rukia’s spirit energy. Or Miwa’s and Renji’s for that matter.”

“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t to their face!” I sputtered, feeling my face heat up even more. I probably resembled the world’s most unattractive tomato by now.

“Oh, but now you’ve caught my attention. Indulge a poor man’s curiosity, will you?” He asked, a slight smirk on his face. “Would it make you feel better if I promised not to judge you no matter what you say?” I squinted at him.

“You better not laugh,” I warned. “Or else I’m kicking you out. I’m not joking here.”

“Upon my honor,” he promised solemnly. The effect was rather ruined by his lips twitching though.

“This is going to sound so stupid,” I muttered, but took a deep breath and braced myself. “It’s a very…soothing feel, like the lingering scent of smoke after blowing out a candle. Wet ink drying on paper, a hint of incense, the taste of jasmine tea. The rustling of leaves in autumn, flower petals floating in the wind… the sound of a single violin. And underneath all that, the stillness and heavy anticipation before a storm breaks.” My voice cracked at the end and there was a long silence. I stared down at my hands, fingers twisting together and refused to look at his face.

“You are very good at that,” Byakuya said finally.

“Yeah, well I’m a healer. Analyzing spirit energy is part of my job. At least I know that if being a doctor doesn’t work out, I’ll still have a future as a poet,” I snorted, before bumping his shoulder lightly with mine. “So Byakuya,” I added casually, “What kind of apple do I feel like to you?”

He huffed a startled laugh and shot me a long-suffering look. I ignored it with the expertise of someone who’d spent decades living with Kaori and gazed at him expectantly.

“Well? I answered your question, now it’s your turn.” I prodded when he didn’t answer. Despite myself, I was curious—it wasn’t like I could judge what my _own_ spirit energy felt like, after all. I could feel it, but I didn’t have any specific impression of it. It wasn’t _like_ anything, it just… _was._

“A breeze on the hottest day of the year,” he said abruptly. “Sun showers, a bird learning how to fly, sinking into a warm bath, the sound of wind chimes in an abandoned building.” Byakuya looked down at me, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “A wildflower breaking through the cracks of a sidewalk.”

“Oh,” I answered quietly. For a moment, we just sat in silence. In this position, I was close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body and I suddenly felt hyperaware of Byakuya’s spirit energy—warm, content, and utterly impossible to ignore.

Dust motes floated from the ceiling down to where we were sitting, shimmering like glitter in the afternoon light and lending the room an almost surreal quality. I tilted my head up and studied Byakuya’s face—the slight curve of his lips, his relaxed expression, the way his eyelids were slightly lowered over storm gray eyes.

My first thought was, _He looks beautiful like this._

My next thought—a slowly dawning realization that usually only accompanied epiphanies of life-shattering magnitudes—was, _I might be in trouble here._

***

Because I was a mature adult who was perfectly capable of confronting her own emotions, and because I’d never really been into the whole ‘willfully-blind’ thing, I didn’t lie to myself. Instead, that night I calmly sat down and analyzed my own feelings. Denial wasn’t going to make them go away, so why bother trying?

First things first. Did I love Byakuya? After debating on the matter for approximately ten seconds, I settled on a resounding _no._ I cared for him, sure, I enjoyed his company, definitely, and I thought he was attractive (who wouldn’t?), but what I felt for him wasn’t love.

It just had the potential to evolve into it.

I don’t know how long I spent just staring at my ceiling, my thoughts a continuous mantra of _ohmygod_ and _IprobablyhaveacrushonKuchikiByakuya_ before I snapped out of my daze, rolled over, and promptly tried to suffocate myself in my pillow. When that didn’t work, I grabbed Tatsuya’s dagger and a frying pan for backup and stormed off into the woods. If nothing else, beating up hollows would provide stress relief. Since Byakuya was going to be staying for the next few days, it wasn’t like I could easily _avoid_ him—and I didn’t have too many appointments set up for the next week, so there went that excuse. Not to mention, according to shoujo manga at least, _nothing_ screamed ‘I have a crush on a guy’ more than suddenly deciding to evade said guy.

Hey, I said that I was mature enough not to lie to myself. I never said that I was ready to _deal_ with it.

~Three hours later~

_“How could you be so stupid?!_ ”

I winced at Kaori’s livid tone. She hadn’t been that mad at me for years now.

Pacing back and forth furiously, Kaori seemed torn between wringing my neck and whacking me on the head with my own frying pan. “Hisana…just what the hell were you thinking? Going off to fight hollows _alone?_ With only a knife and a fucking _frying pan_ for backup? Are you mentally retarded?! Did your liberal use of healing kido damage your brain somehow?”

“Hey, that frying pan saved my life,” I said sullenly, pressing my ice pack harder against my throbbing head. I’d healed the cut on my temple, but it still hurt. “And don’t bash on Tatsuya’s dagger. If I hadn’t stabbed that hollow’s eye with it…”

“ _THAT’S NOT THE FUCKING POINT!”_ She shouted. I harrumphed, crossing my arms.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. I’ve fought hollows before. Just because my gut reaction is normally to run in the opposite direction doesn’t mean that I _can’t_ fight them when I need to.”

“Hisana, there’s a large difference between ‘need to fight’ and ‘seeking them out like a suicidal moron’,” Kazuki said icily.

“Oh, so I can’t get some combat practice in too?” I asked indignantly. “I may be a healer; that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be able to fight.” Kazuki gazed up at the ceiling, looking like he was praying for patience. Kaori had moved way past that point and was now fingering the sword at her waist, looking like she was contemplating finishing the hollow’s job.

“But really,” I continued on, “this was a perfectly logical decision. There are a few techniques on how to paralyze and incapacitate an opponent I wanted to try that I can’t exactly test on _people_ and okay, I may have gotten a bit injured--”, a cracked rib and a few cuts wasn’t that bad, right? “—but overall, I think that hollow ended up way worse off than me.”

“I give up,” Kazuki muttered, “There’s just no curing this level of idiocy. Maybe I should call one of the brats over, or even pretty-boy Kuchiki. They might have better luck getting through to her.”

“Hisana,” Mitsuo cut Kauzki off, leveling me with a serious look. “What is this about, really? You may push yourself too hard sometimes when dealing with a patient, but this level of recklessness isn’t you.” When I didn’t answer, he sighed and added, “I can always call Kuchiki-san over--”

“ImayhaveacrushonByakuya,” I blurted out.

Mitsuo stared at me. “What?”

I huffed, glaring sulkily at the floor. “I _said,_ that I may be developing some… _feelings_ ,” here I choked on my words before soldiering on, “for Byakuya. Possibly. Maybe. Just a tiny bit.”

“Dear god, you’re only just figuring this out now?” Kazuki muttered.

Next to him, Kaori pinched the bridge of her nose. “What are you, twelve?” Kaori grumbled. “Woman up already and deal with it. This is pathetic.”

“What?” I asked, staring at them incredulously. “You guys _knew?_ ”

“Hisana, _everyone_ knew. Well, except maybe Kuchiki-san,” he amended.

“The fuck?” I normally wasn’t one to swear, but I figured this situation merited an exception. “Even Miwa and Renji? Even _Rukia?_ ”

“Why do you think she throws a giant hissy fit every time he comes over?” Kaori stared at me dubiously, as if she couldn’t comprehend the sheer stupidity in front of her. “Rukia actually _likes_ it when training is challenging, so you couldn’t have thought that his hellish training schedules were the _only_ reason for her dislike. The pineapple brat and your apprentice too—the three of them formed a pact on like the third day after meeting him.”

Huh—I guess it _was_ my fault that Rukia and Renji’s relationship with Byakuya was so different this time around. After all, I’d practically conditioned them to hate any boyfriend/girlfriend Mitsuo/Kazuki/Kaori brought home on sight…it only made sense that the same prejudice would transfer over to Byakuya. Then I turned around and stared at Kaori accusingly.

“If it was so obvious, why didn’t you say something?” I asked indignantly. Kazuki snorted.

“It wasn’t for lack of trying, I can tell you that. But no, you were stuck in your blissful bubble of ignorance. Every time one of us tried to bring it up, you were always like, ‘No, no, we’re just friends!’” He paused. “This would be a bad time to say ‘I told you so,’ wouldn’t it?” I leveled a flat glare at him.

“Yes, yes it would be,” I grumbled. “Great. Any advice on how to get rid of feelings?” I asked without much hope.

“Ha, if there was a way to do that, I’d have gotten rid of any feelings towards this buffoon years ago,” Kaori muttered with a pointed look towards Kazuki, ignoring his indignant ‘Hey!’ Mitsuo rolled his eyes at both of them before turning to me.

“Would it really be so bad?” Mitsuo asked softly. “My personal dislike of Kuchiki-san aside, he makes you happy. And unless I am very much mistaken, you make him happy as well.”

“Well, _yeah._ As a _friend._ Not as a significant other,” I felt the need to point out. “He’s supposed to fall in love with someone kind, sweet and gentle. And polite.” I thought back to what canon-Hisana was like. “Probably somewhat meek and delicate too. Fragile. Someone he can take care of, you know?”

“Uh…well, I haven’t spent nearly as much time with him as you have, so correct me if I’m wrong…” Kazuki began delicately.

“Have you even met him?” Kaori cut in incredulously. “I’ll admit, I don’t know him very well, but from what I’ve seen he _definitely_ doesn’t want someone bowing before him all the time. If he wanted a meek, obedient wife, well, I’m betting there’s enough of a surplus back in the Seireitei. But instead, he keeps coming back _here._ God damn it Hisana, why would he return if he didn’t prefer _you_ over anyone back home?”

“But…but he’s never shown even the slightest inclination towards feeling anything but friendship towards me!” I protested weakly. He couldn’t possibly be attracted to two drastically different personalities, right? I mean, we may have shared the same face, but I was about as different from canon-Hisana as you could get. Granted, canon-Byakuya had been quite a bit older when he’d fallen in love with canon-Hisana so there was that, but even so…

Mitsuo glanced meaningfully at the necklace Byakuya had given me the last time he’d come. Involuntarily, my hand reached up to brush against where the jade pendant rested under my shirt, against my chest. “That’s different,” I argued. “Who knows how nobles are? Expensive gifts are probably the norm for them.”

“Okay, new tactic,” Kazuki cut in. “Forget Kuchiki and what he may or may not be feeling. What matters is…how do _you_ feel about him, Hisana? I know that you feel a bit more than friendship towards him, but what are you planning on doing about it?”

“You know we’d support you no matter what you chose to do,” Mitsuo said reassuringly. “Even if you decided to pack up tomorrow and move to the Seireitei with him.” My mind jumped back to the conversation I’d had with Byakuya recently about visiting his home. In light of my recent revelation, it took on a whole different context.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, shaking my head in frustration. “I don’t know what to do. It’s still too early to tell. I’m not going to risk our friendship for a few feelings that may not even pan out. Maybe someday in the future, if my feelings develop further I might act upon them,” yeah right, “but for now…I’m staying right here.” I smiled at the three members of my family who’d always been there for me, right from the beginning. “No matter what though, regardless of how I might feel or how Byakuya might feel, I won’t forget about you guys. I may care about Byakuya, but you’re my family.”

“And family doesn’t abandon family, no matter what,” Mitsuo finished quietly, before reaching out with one hand to ruffle my hair. “Tatsuya taught us all that. Glad to see the lesson stuck with you.”

“Hmph. Well if you do become the next Lady Kuchiki, I, for one, expect a monthly shipment of chocolates. Some silk kimonos would be nice too. Also some of that tea he got you a while back,” Kaori said, crossing her arms.

“Kaori!” I protested, face heating up. Kazuki cackled at me and I elbowed him in the stomach. “The hell? We were discussing my miniscule crush on him, not becoming his potential wife!”

“Even the most epic of romances start out small. Or in this case, with a dumbass girl finally figuring out she’s attracted to her best guy friend after months of sexual tension,” Kaori taunted before dancing away.

“See if I ever get you anything!” I called out after her, scowling. “Bitch.”

“Yes, she kind of is, isn’t she?” Mitsuo agreed.

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about there!” Kazuki defended her. “I mean, okay yeah, she can be a bit…much sometimes, but have you tasted her cooking? And then there’s that one thing she does with her tongue, and that other thing she does with her hips, and her hands are just _beautiful,_ especially when they’re on my--”

I glanced up at Mitsuo. “Promise me you’ll punch me in the head if I ever start sounding like that?” I asked pleadingly.

“It’s a deal,” Mitsuo agreed, looking slightly ill before walking over and slugging Kazuki in the stomach.

 ***

I hadn’t been able to get back to sleep that night, too worried over how my recent…revelation would affect my friendship with Byakuya. Despite Kaori’s words—“I don’t get why you’re freaking out over this. You were already attracted to his looks and behavior. The only difference is that you actually realize it now”—I’d still been anxious that things would be awkward between us, that I wouldn’t know how to act around him anymore. If our easy camaraderie had been ruined by a few stupid hormones…as much as I hated to admit it, I would have been devastated. I’d even considered adding several additional appointments to this week’s schedule (surely Ito-san’s leg could do with another checkup?) just so I could push off dealing with Byakuya for a bit longer. As it happened though, surprisingly little changed in our interactions.

I scowled down at the paper in front of me. A smudge here, numerous indecipherable scribbles there, ink droplets everywhere, a large stain where I had knocked the ink jar over…

“Well, you can sort of see where I wrote my name,” I said stiffly, inserting as much of my dignity (the few scraps of it I had left anyway) into my voice. Tilting my head to the side and squinting, I amended, “Well, maybe. If you use a bit of imagination.” I’d decided to try my hand at calligraphy after seeing a cheap set on display in the marketplace. It was one of Byakuya’s favorite hobbies after all, and I’d been curious to see if I had any talent in it. Needless to say, the answer to that question was a resounding _no._

“It is certainly…impressive,” Byakuya commented, leaning forward to study my failed work of art. I might have been more inclined to believe him if he didn’t sound so damn amused. “Unique as well. I don’t believe I have ever come across this type of kanji before in all my years of study. Congratulations, Hisana, you seem to have invented a new style of calligraphy.”

I groaned and let my forehead smack down onto the table. I would have covered my face with my hands, except they were so covered with ink I’d be able to hold them up to the night sky and they’d blend in perfectly.

 “I don’t get it. I can write perfectly well with a pen, there’s no reason why a brush should be so different! At the very least, the first kanji of my name shouldn’t have come out like _this.”_ I pointed to a fat blob towards the top of the page. “These are worse than _Miwa’s_ scribbles when she was first learning how to write.”

“Well, these brushes are of rather poor quality. As is the paper. Both may have played a factor here,” Byakuya allowed, the corners of his mouth twitching. My scowl deepened.

“Don’t patronize me, you smug jerk. The middle of my name looks like a freaking overgrown hedgehog!” A muscle in Byakuya’s cheek jumped. His expression looked borderline pained now, and I sighed, rolling my eyes at him. “Go on, you can laugh. I can see that you’re dying to.” Apparently that was all the permission he needed, because he suddenly doubled over, shoulders shaking with mirth. Against my will, my mouth curved up reluctantly. Even if it was at my expense, a part of me felt…proud that I could make Kuchiki Byakuya laugh like this.

“The issue isn’t with your knowledge of the language, it’s with the way you hold the brush,” Byakuya explained once he had calmed down. “Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

With that, he grabbed another brush from the table and held it up for me to see. “Don’t hold it the same way you would a pencil or pen. The brush should be held completely vertically, and should be gripped between the thumb and index finger, with the middle finger hooked around the outside of the handle and the ring finger resting on the inside.” Dipping the brush elegantly in the ink, he then proceeded to draw (because it wasn’t simply _writing,_ not the way he did it) a perfectly formed character on a clean sheet of paper. “There. Now you try.”

Hesitantly, I picked up my own brush again, carefully arranging my fingers in the way I had seen Byakuya do. First dipping my brush in the ink, I then gingerly pressed down on the paper before promptly wincing. Well, it was better than before. Instead of a big fat ugly blob of ink, I formed a thin, wavering, shaky line in its place. Still, it was progress…kind of.

Byakuya chuckled at my frustrated glare (it wasn’t a _pout,_ goddamn it), before getting up and walking around the table so that he stood over where I was sitting, chest pressed against my back. He leaned over my shoulder to peer at my handiwork and then reached out with his right hand to grasp my own, hair tickling the side of my face as he did so. It suddenly became very hard to breathe.

“There,” he said quietly, maneuvering my fingers into a slightly different position. It felt awkward and unfamiliar, but somehow more…stable than before? “Move your hand a bit closer to the bristles; if your hand is too far from the paper, you won’t have enough control of the brush. This way, you can create stronger, more defined strokes.” Meanwhile, he extended his other arm and took my empty hand, pressing it down on the paper. The action somehow, impossibly, brought him into even closer proximity with my body. “Use your other hand to flatten and stabilize the paper.”

I’d been pretty proud of how well I was ignoring my emotions up until this point but now…I wasn’t going to survive this. This wasn’t _fair._ I wanted my obliviousness back, damn it.

“Right,” I said shakily. If my voice came out slightly unsteady, well, I seriously doubted any other girl in my position would have been able to do better. At least my brain cells were still functioning. Mostly.

“Can I dip my brush in the ink now, or is there a special protocol for that too?” I’d never been so thankful that sarcasm was my default response until this moment. That gratefulness vanished a second later when Byakuya chuckled, his breath warm against my face.

“Just be careful not to put too little or too much ink on. A drenched brush in particular is to be avoided, as that can lead to the ink dripping.” I tried valiantly to focus on his words, but it was getting progressively more difficult when I couldn’t even _breathe_ without taking in a lungful of his scent. Sandalwood. God help me, why did he have to smell like _sandalwood?_

“I’ll try my best not to drown my brush then,” I muttered, dipping it lightly in the ink. My hands were steady and I’d never been as thankful for my decades of medical experience as I was in that moment. I could keep some of my dignity intact, at least. Just as I was about to start my third attempt at calligraphy, he reached out with his right arm again and placed his hand over mine on the brush. Then, fingers still covering mine, he gently lowered my arm so that the tip of the brush touched the paper. His hand guided my movements and ten seconds later, I was staring down at the most perfectly shaped character that had ever been formed by my hand.

“The wrist is the most important component,” he murmured, continuing to write using my hand, “It must be agile and flexible in order to successfully manipulate the tip of the brush. Tilt the brush using your fingers like this,” he pressed down slightly on my middle and index fingers, creating an elegant twist at the end of one radical, “to add some variety to your strokes.”

I looked at the beautiful kanji forming under my brush in fascination. Byakuya manipulating my movements aside, there was something almost mesmerizing about way my hands were used to create _art._ Absently, I wondered if this was what master painters felt like.

With a final flick of the wrist, Byakuya finished his last character and set the brush back on the brush rest. “Well?” He asked, smiling slightly. “What do you think?”

Byakuya had written down an old Japanese proverb, ‘Continuance is Strength’. In other words, persevering after a setback was its own kind of power. “It’s beautiful, Byakuya,” I answered honestly. “Thank you.”

“It describes you well,” he said, expression warm. He paused briefly before adding, “Calligraphy takes many years to master, but if you have taken an interest in it, I would be more than glad to teach you.”

“Even with my clear lack of natural talent?” I asked dryly. “I’m warning you now, teaching me won’t be easy. You’ll need every last bit of your Kuchiki patience.” Byakuya’s eyes softened.

“Hisana, it doesn’t matter to me how skilled you are. It would be an absolute pleasure for me to aid you in discovering your own calligraphy style,” he said. I don’t know what emotion was showing on my face at that moment, but he reached out and brushed my cheek lightly with the back of one hand. My breath hitched. “Besides, we have years for me to teach you. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

***

To everyone’s surprise, by the end of the week Rukia actually looked a bit disappointed that Byakuya had to leave. Though I suspected her reasons differed quite a bit from mine.

“I had so much planned too,” she muttered. “Oni-sensei, why do you have to go _now_? I didn’t even get to do the thing with the frog spawn.”

“Yeah, and we found a pretty cool clearing in the forest the other day. I wanted to show you it,” Renji added.

“This wouldn’t be the same clearing that’s infested by poison ivy, would it?” I asked dryly. “Subtle, you two are not.” Both of them gave me identical pouts and I rolled my eyes. “You do know that once you become shinigami, Byakuya will outrank you? By a large margin too. You should get used to showing him respect now.”

“Indeed,” Byakuya smirked. “As a lieutenant, my authority is large enough that it does not matter which squad you join. You will be expected to follow my orders regardless of whether or not you enter the Sixth.”

Both Rukia and Renji paled, before Renji suddenly turned to me and clung to me like a particularly stubborn barnacle. “Hisana-nee-san, do something! Oni-sensei is gonna kill us,” he whined.

I was actually pretty sure Byakuya was bluffing—they’d be expected to listen to him maybe, but not to the extent that he was implying—and sent a stern look his way. He had a wholly unrepentant look on his face.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” I said, patting Renji on the head with one hand and gently loosening him from my leg with the other. “As for you, Byakuya…isn’t it time for you to go? I’m sure you have more important things to be doing than frightening children.” 

“More like impertinent, disrespectful little brats,” he muttered. I refrained from rolling my eyes with a Herculean amount of effort.

“Okay kids, say your goodbyes. Be nice,” I added after Rukia opened her mouth with a mulish expression on her face. “His next visit probably won’t be for a while.”

Anywhere from four to six months—I understood, of course. Byakuya needed to settle into his role as lieutenant and his new duties would keep him busy but…it was still hard.

“Hmph. Fine. Oni-sensei, try not to get eaten by a hollow, ok? Nee-chan would be sad, and it’d be troublesome finding another teacher.”

“Yeah, Oni-sensei. _We’re_ the only ones allowed to beat you up, so you better not go around losing any fights.” I sighed, but accepted that that was probably the best response I’d get. Besides, it could be taken as an expression of concern…maybe.

“Take care, Rukia-chan, Abarai-kun. I expect to see large improvements in your skills the next time I come. It would…displease me if I find that they have declined,” he said, leaving out the unspoken _and you don’t want to displease me._ Despite his ominous tone, however, there was a faint note of pride in his voice that spoke of his confidence in his students.

Giving a final nod to the two, Byakuya then turned face to me. I hesitated for a moment before reaching up and pulling him into a hug. It would probably be several months before I’d be able to see him again after all. He stilled for a moment, a bit surprised, before relaxing and tightening his arms around my back.

“My offer still stands. Anytime you want to visit, just say the word, alright? At the very least, please think about it,” Byakuya murmured into my ear.

“I’ll keep it under consideration,” I smiled, leaning slightly into his chest. “In return, please be careful? I know that you’re a lieutenant and you heal quickly, but I’d still prefer not to see you hurt at all.”

“Of course,” he promised, stepping back. “Until next time then.” A blink of my eyes later, and he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

I woke up to the sight of a canopy of leaves. Flecks of blue sky peaked through the layer of green, and I sat up to find myself in a forest that seemed strangely familiar, despite the fact that I didn’t recall ever visiting. Apart from the sound of leaves rustling, the place seemed almost eerily silent. No birds, no insects…aside from the plants surrounding me, I was the only living being present. Standing up, I began walking along the narrow dirt path in front of me, staring at the myriad of flora growing along the sides in wonder. Trees of every kind, only some of which were familiar, flowers of every shape and color…it had all the variety of a rainforest without the tropical feeling.

After walking for a period of time—it was impossible to tell exactly how long—a minute, an hour, a day—the dense cover of leaves finally began to thin as more and more light shone through. Finally, I found myself at the shores of a small lake, maybe an eighth mile in diameter. At the center of the lake was a tiny island upon which grew the largest willow tree I’d ever seen. At twenty five meters in height, it towered over everything else and its branches shaded much of the island from view.

The lake itself was a beautiful blue-green color that shimmered in the light. The water lapped at my feet; cool and refreshing. Leading from where I was standing to the island were a series of large stepping stones, worn smooth from the water. Shrugging, I made my way over to the island, pausing every so often to admire the lilies that grew in the water. Just before I reached the shore, a noise coming from above caused me to look up.

The sight of glowing golden eyes partially hidden amidst willow leaves made me gasp and instinctively step back, almost losing my balance.

“So you have finally come, Yukimura Hisana. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever make it here.” The voice was soft, melodious, yet somehow muffled, as if coming from far away. The being shifted and although the willow branches prevented me from getting a good look at it, I still got the impression of…wings?

“Who are you?” I whispered, peering closer to get a better glimpse of the creature hidden in the upper branches of the willow tree. The being shifted again and through the leaves, I saw the flash of one magnificent wing, feathers of brilliant metallic green tipped with luminescent blue.

“My name is--” The being spoke, and then I woke up.

 

I rubbed my eyes blearily, still shaking off my lingering sleepiness. Lately, I’d been having the same dream over and over. It was always the same forest, although this was the first time I’d gotten so close to the island. Honestly, I had no idea what it meant, especially that last bit at the end. Hearing voices probably wasn’t a good sign but…well, it’s not like dreams were supposed to make sense. Just because this was a recurring dream and a bit more realistic than my normal ones didn’t mean it was significant in any way.

“Finally woke up from your nap, sleepyhead?” Kazuki teased as I walked down the stairs.

“Unlike you, some of us actually require sleep,” I scowled. Glancing outside the window, I frowned when I noticed it was already getting dark. “Is Rukia back yet?”

“Nah, she went out to find the pineapple,” Kazuki said casually, biting into an apple. I tensed, and went to grab my coat. “I’m going out to find her.”

“Relax, Hisana,” Kazuki rolled his eyes. “It’s barely six. Plus, everyone from the 76th district onwards knows not to mess with any of the brats.”

“Better safe than sorry,” I answered, already halfway out the door.

Normally I wouldn’t have any problem with Rukia staying out late as long as she came back by nine. With Byakuya’s lessons, she was more than capable of defending herself against most attacks. But for the past two weeks, well…children had been disappearing. I didn’t have any confirmed proof, but Renji had mentioned how a few kids he hung out with seemed to have vanished. They were always orphans, children with no families…people who wouldn’t be missed. Children who had no one to look for them, no one to care.

If it was only a few disappearances, it wouldn’t disturb me so much. Sad as it was, people died all the time here and children were often the first to go. I probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it if the missing children didn’t all have one thing in common—they all had above average spiritual energy. Nowhere on the level of Rukia or Renji, but more around Miwa’s level before she started training with me. Still, it was an unsettling trend.

I found Rukia a couple blocks down. She felt me coming, eyes widening at my darkened expression.

“Uh…nee-chan, I can explain,” she said weakly. I grabbed her by one ear and she winced.

“What were you thinking?” I hissed. “You know the rule, I want you back by six.”

“ _I_ know that, but Renji-baka lost track of time! I was just going to get him and then we would’ve come straight home, I swear!” Rukia whined.

“Still, you know that it might be dangerous for you to be out right now! You should’ve called Kazuki to find him; it’s about time that lazy ass did something useful around here anyway,” I grumbled.

“Now you sound like Kaori-nee-san,” she said before wilting under my stern glare. “I’m sorry, nee-chan. I know you’re just worried.”

I sighed, my anger folding like a house of cards. “You were just trying to look out for Renji, I guess I can’t be too mad at you for that.” I looked up to see Reo, the fish-vender, start packing up his stand to go home.

“Reo-san, I hate to be a bother, but I was wondering if you would mind dropping Rukia off at my house on your way back? I need to locate my other wayward kid,” I said with a sheepish smile. He grinned at me.

“Sure thing, Sensei! C’mon Rukia-chan, let’s get you home,” he said kindly.

“Renji’s probably by the river, nee-chan,” Rukia added.

“Thanks, imouto,” I smiled briefly and gave her a quick hug. “See you at home.”

I’d only just caught sight of the river before a small figure barreled into me, almost knocking me over.

“Wha—Haruki-kun?” I blinked in surprise, recognizing him to be one of Renji’s friends. “You’re injured!” I said alarmed, brushing his face lightly with my fingertips. A nasty gash on his forehead was oozing blood into his left eye.

“Sensei!” He cried out, relief visibly diffusing over his features. “Sensei, thank god you’re here, you gotta come quickly, this creepy dude walked up to Kimi-chan and tried to take her away, so she kicked ‘im in the balls only he got mad an’ I tried to protect her, _I did,_ only he punched me an’…an’ he had a knife and I thought I was gonna be a goner _for sure_ but then Renji showed up and I ran to get help and I’m _so_ happy I ran into you, but I dunno how he’s doin’!”

“Hey, hey, slow down, breathe,” I said gently, waiting a few seconds for him to calm down. “Now, this is very important. Do you think you can take me to where Renji-kun and Kimi-chan were?”

He nodded, grabbing my hand and tugging me forward. A couple hundred meters ahead, I saw Renji holding his sword and standing in a defensive pose, shielding a young blonde girl with his body protectively. A red haze settled over my vision when I noticed the way he was cradling his left arm gingerly and I took a deep breath, swallowing the burning rage that rose up within me. Keeping a clear mind in fights was essential—fury wouldn’t help me now.

One of Renji’s opponents, a heavyset man by the name of Honda, was currently talking to him. The other man I didn’t recognize…not an Inuzuri resident then.

“Look brat, I really don’t want to hurt you too much but I will if I have to. Just let us have the girl and we’ll each be on our way. No need for anyone to get hurt,” Honda was saying.

“Like hell I will! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how none of these kids have come back once they’ve disappeared. I’m not stupid!” Renji yelled. The unknown man next to Honda cursed.

“They’re attracting too much attention. I don’t see why we can’t just grab them both and be done with it. The redheaded brat has more spirit energy anyway.” Honda seemed uncomfortable. Smart man.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to object,” I said, stepping in with an icy smile. “My, my, resorting to kidnapping children now, Honda-san? I’ll admit, I thought better of you.”

He whirled around, panic flashing over his features. “Sensei!”

“And who are you?” The still-unnamed person asked, before shaking his head. “No matter, it’s none of your business. Lady, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll give you a warning—head on home before we have to bash that pretty head of yours in. This has nothing to do with you, so if you’re smart, you’ll scram. Honda, grab the kids and let’s go.” When Honda still didn’t move, he looked over and sneered.

“Fucking fatty, are you really that pathetic? What, scared of a girl a quarter of your size now? Damn, I didn’t know they made them that pitiful.” With that, he reached out with one hand towards Renji, who stiffened and prepared to raise his sword. His hand never made it that far.

“Ah, my apologies, but I can’t let you do that,” I said, my smile still glued to my face. He looked down in shock at where one hand was gripping his wrist, preventing his arm from moving. The other held Tatsuya’s dagger at his throat. “See, you decided to mess with my family, which makes it _my_ business. And that ‘redheaded brat’ has been part of my family for over a decade now. A big sister should always protect her younger siblings, don’t you agree?” My grip on his wrist tightened. Behind me, Renji’s face turned red. “Going after my family…that was your first mistake. Your second mistake,” I said quietly, pressing the knife harder against his throat and drawing a thin line of blood, “was underestimating me.”

With that, I sent an electric shock up his arm. My reiatsu, converted into electricity using a technique usually reserved for reviving people from the dead, traveled up the neurons in his arm to his spinal cord, before finally reaching his brain. My smile widened into a snarl as I amplified the technique, frying nerve cells and brain matter. He convulsed briefly before going still.

Letting the body fall to the ground, I turned to Honda who seemed to have frozen in shock. His eyes kept glancing between me and his fallen comrade, as if deciding whether attacking me would be worth it.

“Careful, Honda-san,” I said softly. My smile showed just a hint of teeth and he took an involuntary step back, eyes wide. “Do you really want to make an enemy out of me?”

He shook his head mutely and my smile turned a touch more genuine. “Then you’ll tell me everything you know about the organization that is abducting these kids.”

***

As it turned out, Honda didn’t know much. After making sure Haruki and Kimi reached a safe shelter, I’d promptly interrogated Honda to get every scrap of information on what was happening to the disappeared kids. However, he had only joined a week ago, and this had been his second job. The only things I gleaned from him were that the pay was good, his employer was targeting kids with higher than usual spiritual energy, and the headquarters of this group were located somewhere beyond the 74th district. His partner had been in charge of most of the technical details; Honda was just there as a guide. So…I was left basically where I started.

“At least it makes for a good story?” Kaori commented. “And the brats might be more inclined to be cautious after this.”

“I don’t like this,” Mitsuo frowned. “I can’t think of any good reason why someone outside of the shinigami would target children with high reiatsu. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“I can’t believe that you let that Honda guy go,” Kazuki grumbled. “What makes you think he ain’t gonna come after you later?” At this, Kaori snorted.

“Kazuki, the idiot’s terrified of her now. He just witnessed her kill his partner by electrocuting him for two straight minutes—with minimal effort too.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I grimaced. It wasn’t exactly _easy_ to inject straight up electricity into someone’s nervous system for several minutes. Had I been thinking logically, I never would have done it—for one thing, I’d only adapted that technique for combat use once before, during my admittedly reckless stunt with the hollow after my Byakuya-crush-revelation. But I’d just been so _angry_ at the time and he had _dared_ to touch my family-

“Well, at least Renji doesn’t seem to have suffered any trauma from witnessing it,” Kazuki said dryly, motioning towards where Renji was animatedly retelling the story to Rukia and Miwa.

“I can’t believe you weren’t there Rukia, it was _so cool._ Her hand literally crackled with _lightning_ and then he kinda twitched and dropped like a stone!”

“Should I be worried that he’s so unbothered by the sight of a painful death?” I murmured. Everyone in Inuzuri became at least somewhat desensitized to violence at some point, but I’d just _electrocuted someone to death._ Hell, sometimes I worried about my own growing detachment over killing people—at least, people I didn’t know.

“It was either you or him, and he knows that. Kill or be killed; one of the first things we taught them,” Mitsuo said quietly.

“I still can’t believe you had to be _rescued_ by nee-chan,” Rukia’s voice, containing more than a modicum of disbelief, distracted me. “We’ve been receiving lessons from Oni-sensei for more than a year, and you still can’t take down two freaking goons! I’m ashamed to call you my rival now. That’s it, I need to find a new sparring partner.”

“Hey! I totally coulda taken them down by myself!” Renji protested, voice full of injured pride. “Hisana-nee-san just took them down before I had a chance to, that’s all.”

“Shishou’s so amazing,” Miwa sighed dreamily. I twitched uncomfortably as Mitsuo lifted a hand to his mouth to hide his laughter.

“Yukimura Hisana, our resident badass,” Kaori added, smirking. I flushed.

“Oh, shut up all of you,” I grumbled, aiming a kick at her halfheartedly. Shock one guy into oblivion and no one ever lets you forget it. _Honestly._

***

~Two Weeks Later~

The sound of someone pounding at the door made me jump. Next to me, Rukia almost tipped her bowl of rice over.

“Seriously, can’t they go without you for one day?” Kaori grumbled. “Gods, can’t even enjoy dinner around here anymore without someone interrupting.”

“It might not be for me,” I protested weakly. “Not every visitor is looking for me, you know.” Kazuki and Kaori sent me identical unimpressed looks.

“No, but a solid ninety percent of them are,” Kazuki said pointedly.

“I’ll get it, Shishou,” Miwa said, standing up. Meanwhile, I began shoving as much food in my mouth as possible with the speed of someone who had a lot of practice dealing with interrupted meals.

“Don’t eat so fast, you’ll choke,” Mitsuo said chidingly.

“I’ engee ‘an oo it, s’an I,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t speak gibberish,” Kaori said sarcastically. I glared at her and swallowed with a massive effort.

“I _said,_ if Renji can do it, so can I.” Next to Rukia, Renji let out an indignant huff while Rukia snorted.

“That idiot could shove half the contents of our kitchen in his mouth in one go. So undignified,” Rukia said haughtily, in a tone of voice I was _sure_ she had learned from Byakuya. Of all the traits she had to pick up from him…

“Shishou, it’s for you,” Miwa cut in before Renji could retort. “It’s Aoki-san. Something about a drug overdose?”

I groaned, resisting the urge to bang my forehead on the table. At least taking drugs by injection hadn’t been discovered this far out in the Rukongai yet, but that didn’t prevent people from getting high. It seemed like in every civilization, there just _had_ to be that one guy who decided, “This looks like a pretty leaf. Let’s try smoking it and see what happens.”

“Wonderful. What is it this time? Opium? Diviner’s Sage?” I grumbled, already getting up. “Damn it, this is the third time this week.”

“I can come with you, Shishou. Keep you company,” Miwa offered. I sent her a grateful smile.

“Thank you. That would be appreciated.”  

“Come back soon!” Rukia said, waving at me. “I’ll save some food for you.”

I bent down to kiss her forehead, before grabbing my coat as Miwa offered it to me. “Love you, don’t stay up too late, and finish your broccoli; don’t think I haven’t noticed you hiding pieces away in your napkin.” Giving a nod to the others, I headed out the door where Aoki was waiting for me.

At first glance—well, the following glances too if I was being honest—he looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes, his pupils were blown wide open, tremors were wracking his thin frame and there was a light sheen of sweat covering his entire body.

“Aoki-san, are you feeling alright?” I asked concerned. “Do you want to come in for a moment? You don’t look so well.”

“Ah Sensei, no need. I- I just haven’t been able to s-smoke for a while now,” he said, avoiding my eyes.

“You know the withdrawal symptoms will only get worse the more you take” I asked him softly. “Opium’s a dangerous drug, Aoki-san. One day I won’t be able to help you.”

He sent me a bitter smile. “Too late fo’ me now, Sensei. Besides, even though it’s hell on the body, it…it allows me to escape. For a while, it lets me be happy.”

“I can’t stop you if that’s your choice,” I said tiredly. “Now, what can I do for you today?”

“Some stupid kid OD’d. Took too much at once, an’ was drunk at the time too. He’s back at my place,” Aoki said. Miwa and I followed him into what was pretty much the poorest part of Inuzuri, which considering it was _Inuzuri,_ was really saying something. The houses were little more than shacks—it was where Rukia and I had lived for a while during our first few months in the afterlife. A couple people were passed out drunk behind street corners; others were sleeping in alleyways, huddled together for warmth. Miwa stepped closer to me, avoiding eye contact with the people on the street. She’d been here with me before once or twice—never alone—but even I still felt uneasy around this part of town. Luckily, Aoki’s house wasn’t too far away and before long, we’d arrived at his front entrance.

“He’s just inside,” Aoki said, holding the door open for me. I paused before stepping inside, a bit surprised at his uncharacteristic display of chivalry. The next thing I knew, a sharp pain blossomed in the back of my head and I collapsed forward, stunned. Behind me, Miwa screamed.

For a while, I just lay on the ground, shell-shocked. It took me a few seconds to even register what had happened—I blamed the dizziness that was spreading through my head, fogging my judgement. Gingerly I touched the back of my head with my hand; it came back wet.

_“Let me go!_ ” Miwa shrieked. I looked up dazedly to see her being restrained by someone I didn’t recognize. Another man was guarding the door, and was the one who’d hit me, judging by the heavy wooden club in his hands. Aside from them, there were another three men—all tall, heavily muscled who moved with a lethal sort of purpose…trained fighters. They didn’t possess high reiatsu, but nonetheless…at first glance I’d put them around Mitsuo’s level at the very least. Great. This day was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

“This is really her?” One of the men toed my side with his shoe, sounding slightly dubious. “This is the famed ‘Angel of Inuzuri?’ I don’t know guys, she looks pretty young.”

“That’s her,” Aoki confirmed, voice unsteady. Realization was slowly dawning on me, along with the first seeds of betrayal.

“Aoki-san,” I said quietly, staring him straight in the eye. “What is the meaning of this?” If my words were slightly slurred, well, I figured I had a good enough excuse.

“Sorry, Miwa-chan, Sensei,” Aoki mumbled. He seemed to be shaking slightly and he looked up towards one of the men—the shortest one, about 30 years of age physically, with honey-brown hair, gold eyes and a lithely muscled body—in terror. “You…you weren’t suppose’ ta hurt her. You said that you wouldn’t hurt her!”

“I said that I meant your precious Sensei no harm, and I was telling the truth,” he answered smoothly. “The…preemptive strike was just to make her a bit more—how should I put it—cooperative. Unfortunate, but ultimately necessary. Reports show that she can put up a bit of a fight when she wants to, and I wouldn’t want anything…tragic to happen. Your concern is touching, but you don’t need to worry. I don’t want to cause her any harm.”

_Tell that to the back of my head, you bastard_ , I thought viciously, trying to get up. God, I _hated_ head injuries. It probably wasn’t as serious as a concussion, but my head was pounding, I couldn’t think straight, and it would likely be a bad idea for me to try and heal myself right now when just staying conscious required every ounce of my concentration.

“Well,” the apparent leader of the group continued. “We got what we came here for.” He nodded towards the man closest to me, who promptly pulled me up roughly. I closed my eyes, fighting the sudden onslaught of dizziness that rushed through me and struggled to stay upright. “Knock the other girl out—we don’t need her. Come on, let’s go. The sooner we get out of this godforsaken district, the better.”

“Wait,” Aoki spoke up, voice quivering, and moved to stand in front of the leader. He held out a hand. “I-I did what you asked. W-We had an a-agreement.”

A cruel smirk spread over the leader’s face. “Ah, that’s right, isn’t it? I’d almost forgotten. Two month’s supply of opium for leading Yukimura Hisana to us, was it?” Abruptly I felt sick and had to resist the urge to throw up. Sold out for a few drugs? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Well, let no one say that I’m not a man of my word,” he said chuckling and took out a medium sized bag from inside his jacket. Aoki took it with the feverish desperation of a drowning man gasping for air. As he scrambled greedily to open the bag, the golden-eyed man motioned subtly to one of his men hiding in the shadows…and somehow I knew what was going to happen before it actually did. I opened my mouth to—I don’t know, yell, scream, shout a warning—but before I could, the sword was already sliding through Aoki’s torso. He stared at the blade peeking through his chest in surprise and then looked up. For a moment, our eyes met.

_Help me,_ he mouthed, lips already stained with red. Then the sword slid out again and he slumped to the floor, motionless.

“Well, that’s that!” The leader said cheerfully, brushing some imaginary dirt off his hands. Behind him, Miwa had gone still, staring at Aoki’s body in shock. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Was that truly necessary?” I asked, my voice a bit hoarse. It wasn’t like I was close to Aoki, and he _had_ betrayed me, but to see him so callously killed…

The leader glanced up at me. “What? Don’t tell me you’re actually _sad,”_ he scoffed. “That scum there was willing to trade you out just so he could go to his happy-place for a couple days. Good riddance, if you ask me. There’s enough worthless trash out there as it is. Now, first things first. Are you going to come with us willingly?” He asked.

There was really only one thing I could say to that. “Fuck you,” I spat. He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“Now, I’ve heard that you’re a smart girl, Hisana-chan,” he said, reaching over to stroke my cheek. I smacked his hand away. “You can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. You can either nod your pretty head yes and follow us back to where we need to go, or I can have Hashimoto over there cut your apprentice’s throat open and you can watch her bleed out. Then, we can knock you out, dump you in a sack, and carry you back with us. So what’s it going to be, huh?”

I swallowed, looking towards where the man restraining Miwa now had a knife placed against her throat. There was no way I’d be able to save her in time…

“Shishou, don’t worry about me. Don’t listen to them!” Miwa shouted, before wincing as the knife dug in further against her skin.

“If you’re still not convinced, there’s still the rest of your family to think about,” the leader said mildly. “I understand that you have a sister who likes to run around Inuzuri? I’ve seen her—she’s simply adorable. It would be a terrible shame if anything were to happen to her.”

In the end, there was only one choice I could make.

“If I agree to come with you, you let my apprentice go. Unharmed. None of that bullshit you pulled with Aoki,” I hissed. “And if you cause any of my family members so much as a _scratch,_ the deal’s off.”

He smiled. “Of course, Hisana-chan. As long as you cooperate, I wouldn’t dream of harming your loved ones.”

“Shishou!” Miwa protested, beginning to look panicked now.

“Miwa,” my tone left no room for disagreement. “I want you to go straight home. Tell the others that something came up—that I got a job that’s going to require me going away from home for a while. And most importantly, _tell them not to go looking for me._ I don’t want any of them, especially Rukia and Renji, looking into this. Tell them...” my voice cracked. “Tell them to trust that I know what I’m doing. I’ll be back. I _promise.”_

Miwa still looked hesitant. My voice hardened. “That’s an _order,_ Miwa. Go.”

The guy restraining her removed his knife from her throat and released her. Before leaving the hut, she turned back and addressed the leader. “ _Why?”_ She asked, voice choked. “Why go to all the trouble of doing this? What do you need my Shishou for?”

He cocked his head to the side, and his smile turned patronizing. “The same reason anyone seeks out your Shishou, of course. For her medical expertise.”

***

“Huh. So you really can manipulate your spirit energy to heal people. I wasn’t sure I believed it at first,” a voice came from behind me. I looked up to see the leader—or Akiyama Daiki, as I’d learned his name was—sit down next to me.

After leaving Inuzuri, we’d traveled through two more districts before settling down in the 75th for the night. After getting a semi-decent night’s sleep, I’d finally felt recovered enough to heal what remained of my head injury. We were currently in the 73rd district, taking a short break.

“Glad I exceeded your expectations then. I would hate for you to have gone all the way out to Inuzuri, only to be disappointed,” I muttered sarcastically. He laughed.

“You’re a spirited one, aren’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t afraid of me at all,” Akiyama eyed me speculatively. “You don’t seem very worried about what will happen to you.” I shrugged.

“Honestly? Compared to what I felt when you were threatening Miwa, the apprehension I feel now is nothing.” At least for now, I was assured that my family was safe. As long as I had that, I wasn’t too worried about myself.

“Still, you’re taking this whole thing very well,” he observed.

“I wouldn’t say I’m taking it well. But I’m not arrogant enough to believe that I can take on the five of you and win. And although I still believe that you are a douchebag of massive proportions, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to work with criminals, although this _is_ the first time I’ve had someone go to such extremes for my help.” It wasn’t _that_ different from the arrangements I’d had with the yakuza in Inuzuri. Basically, my medical services in exchange for leaving my family alone. Simple.

“You didn’t have to blackmail me in exchange for my help, you know,” I added. “Most people would’ve just asked.” Akiyama’s smile turned a bit darker.

“Ah, but see our boss wanted to _ensure_ your cooperation before we you came back with us. This way, you can’t back out. Not to mention, all of Inuzuri seems to be annoyingly protective of you. I didn’t want anyone interfering.”

“Exactly what do you need my help doing?” I asked apprehensively. He paused, seeming to consider whether or not to answer my question before continuing.

“See, our boss has always been very interested in the effects higher spiritual energy has on the body. It’s long been speculated, if not outright confirmed, that those with higher reiatsu levels tend to age slower, heal faster and are more resistant to diseases. He’s especially interested in the manifestation of a zanpakuto spirit.”

“Zanpakuto?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“You might know them as the swords shinigami have, but they have their own characters. From what I understand, they’re part of a shinigami’s soul but manifest as separate people…perhaps it’s best to think of them as a kind of split personality,” he answered. “Recently, he started wondering, what is it exactly that makes some people different than others? Why do some people have high spiritual energy while others have next to none? How does reiatsu affect our physiology? Not every soul with high reiatsu is able to manifest a zanpakuto. What exactly does it take for an ordinary plus to become a shinigami?” Akiyama’s eyes were feverishly bright as he continued his rant.

“Why are the shinigami the only ones allowed to have zanpakuto? Can you imagine the potential, Hisana-chan? The shinigami guard their secrets jealously, but if we could only discover the reasons behind why some souls are different for ourselves, then we could possibly alter regular souls to the level of a shinigami.”

“Those kids…” I murmured, realization dawning on me.

“Disappointments,” he waved his hand dismissively. “A preliminary experiment and a mistake, trying to get them to manifest zanpakuto spirits before studying shinigami first. They were all failures.” I didn’t want to know what happened to the ‘failures’.

“Again, I still don’t know why I’m needed,” I pointed out. “Unless you want to ‘study’ me too, in which case we’re going to have a difference of opinion.”

“Of course not,” he chuckled. “Although your high reiatsu levels _are_ fascinating, your knowledge is far more useful to me.”

“I have no idea why some souls have higher energy than others, or why some people have a greater capacity for growth. And my knowledge on zanpakuto spirits is pretty much nonexistent. I’ve been studying healing kido for over fifty years now and I still haven’t manifested one,” I said.

“No, no, not that kind of knowledge. I meant what I said when I told your apprentice I needed you for your medical expertise,” he said. “See, after realizing our mistake with studying kids first, we managed to capture a few injured shinigami after a mission. However, although we _did_ gain some valuable insight into their healing abilities and such, they lasted a…disappointingly short time. Only a couple of days, really, not to mention their reiatsu levels weren’t all that high in the first place and _none_ of them had unsealed their zanpakuto. A few days ago however, we got lucky and captured another group of shinigami when they were injured. It’s too troublesome and risky to have to keep replacing specimens so I had to think up a way to make them last longer.”

“So you found me,” I said a bit numbly. Horrified…didn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling.

“Exactly,” he said, beaming at me. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I would almost certainly die if I tried to attack him, and said bluntly, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But there’s a thin line between insanity and genius,” he shrugged, completely unbothered.

“And you crossed that line a long time ago,” I muttered. “But I still don’t get it. _Why?_ Sure, your questions _are_ interesting and I’d like to know the answers to them myself…but why go so far to understand? What’s so great about having high spirit energy, or a zanpakuto spirit? Not every shinigami is strong, and it’s perfectly possible to be powerful without having large spiritual energy reserves.”

“Because everyone has a limit—except maybe the living,” he amended. “Those who have small spiritual energy levels can train to increase them and become more powerful. It’s even truer for those with large reserves. How far you can improve before you reach that limit depends on your energy levels. However, those who lack any spiritual energy are stuck where they are now. They cannot improve themselves.” Akiyama smiled at me. “We all want power, Hisana-chan. I’m just one of the few people willing to take steps to gain it. Other people would have said given up and accepted their fate, but I refuse to accept my current state of being. I _refuse_ to accept that I cannot become something more.”

I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head. Despite his words, I doubted that he was telling me everything. It was unlikely that he was simply the power-hungry madman he portrayed himself to be, but…to be honest, I didn’t really care to find out his true motives. Whatever his reasons, his actions were unforgivable. Even if he was trying to gain power to bring about world peace, what he had done—was planning to do—was still despicable.

_What did that say about me?_ I wondered. I was only playing along to protect my family, but…here I was, condemning his actions when soon enough, I would be helping him.

“I don’t agree with you—in fact I hate what you’re doing—but you probably already knew that,” I said frankly. He shrugged.

“You don’t need to agree with me, so long as you do what you’re told,” he answered. “Now come on, it’s about time to go. We need to be back by nightfall.”

“Just one more thing. When were you planning on telling me that you were in charge of this entire thing? Not just the leader of the group charged with finding me, but the entire organization?” I asked conversationally. He froze, before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“You are a smart little thing, aren’t you?” He murmured.

“Not really,” I shrugged. “You aren’t exactly the king of discreteness, you know. The level of detail you went into…it was a pretty big giveaway. Not too hard to figure out.”

He chuckled. “Modest too. Very well, you caught me. Akiyama Daiki, head of the Imasaki yakuza, at your service.” Akiyama dipped into a theatrical bow.

“You already know who I am,” I replied in lieu of an introduction. He pouted.

“I’m hurt, Hisana-chan. Technically, we’ve never been formally introduced,” he said with mock offense.

“Obviously, or else I never would have given you permission to address me so informally,” I muttered.

“See, this is why I like you,” Akiyama said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Despite the fact that I’m a clear threat to you, you still don’t act afraid of me. I’m not sure if you’re brave or just stupid, but either way you’re interesting. I wasn’t expecting much when I came to Inuzuri but now…I think I’ll enjoy working with you. Just follow my orders and we’ll get along just fine.” With that, he got up to check on his men, leaving me to my thoughts.

Despite our easy banter, or maybe because of it, something about him just rubbed me in the wrong way. It wasn’t just because he was a near-psychopath. More like, it was just _how well_ I got along with said psychopath. There was a level of understanding between us that I’d only felt around one person—someone who’d died over fifty years ago.

Akiyama…I didn’t like to think about it, but something about him reminded me of Tatsuya. Or to be more precise, Tatsuya’s worst parts. Tatsuya had cared about me—about all of us—of that I had no doubt. But the _extent_ to which he was willing to go in order to get what he wanted scared even me sometimes. The complete lack of empathy he felt towards anyone he didn’t consider ‘his’, the way he felt no hesitation over killing and even torturing those who crossed him, the mocking tone he adopted…Tatsuya wasn’t the same as Akiyama, but there were enough similarities between the two that it made hating Akiyama very difficult.

Hell, they even both had the same slightly unnerving smile. Not to mention the whole ‘I like you’ speech with a side order of blackmail. I shook my head. No matter how alike they were, I just had to remember that Akiyama _wasn’t_ Tatsuya and I would be fine.

 ***

By the time we actually made it to the Imasaki base, I was about 3000 percent done with life, the world, and especially Akiyama’s creepy cheerfulness interspersed with snarky comments.

“My feet,” I groaned. We were somewhere in the 68th district and my feet felt like they were going to fall off. This was actually the furthest from Inuzuri I’d ever been; before, I’d only been as far as the 74th district.

“Aww, Hisana-chan, are you tired?” Akiyama teased me. I glared at him. “I could carry you if you like.”  His eyes trailed down my body, lingering over my subtle curves. “Trust me, it would be no burden.”

That was yet another thing that annoyed me about Akiyama. About halfway through the 72nd district, Akiyama had apparently decided that flirting with me was great fun. When I finally snapped around two hours later, yelling at him to stop being a pervert, he’d only pouted at me and said, “But it’s so much fun! Much more entertaining than hanging around my boring bodyguards. And you’re so cute when you get flustered.”

I doubted he meant anything serious by it—his leers, while irritating, lacked the hunger I’d sometimes seen in the eyes of men lurking around the red light district when they looked at the prostitutes. So it wasn’t like I felt threatened in _that way._ Still, no one had ever been so _blatant_ about the way they looked at my body before.

“Shut up,” I hissed at him. Normally I wouldn’t speak so disrespectfully to someone who had essentially blackmailed me—despite what Kazuki and Kaori might think, I did have _some_ self-preservation instincts—but Akiyama had made it clear within the first several hours of meeting him that he didn’t mind a bit of attitude. If anything, he seemed entertained by it. “I have just spent the past day and a half walking _nonstop,_ in the company of _five_ testosterone charged men. I am _not_ in the mood to deal with your bullshit, Akiyama- _san._ ”

Akiyama held up his hands in mock defense. “Just offering to help, Hisana-chan. No need to get touchy.” His smirk widened. “Are you sure you won’t accept a foot massage, at least? I’ve been told my… _technique_ is impeccable.”

I made a strangled noise of frustration. A couple feet away, one of Akiyama’s guards looked at me in alarm.

“Boss,” he said warily. “Perhaps it would be best if you did not antagonize her so much? That shade of red does not look healthy.” Akiyama waved him off with a chuckle.

“ _You_ —how is it even possible to insert that much innuendo into a sentence?” I asked incredulously. “Just—do the world a favor and stop talking.”

“I’ll need something—or some _one_ —to occupy my mouth with then. Care to volunteer?” He purred. Somehow, impossibly, my face heated up about another fifteen degrees.

_“_ I will strangle you. _Slowly._ With my bare hands _,”_ I growled.

“Mm, sounds kinky. Normally, I wouldn’t be into erotic asphyxiation but with you darling, I’m willing to give it a try.”

“ _Die in a fire.”_

“Now, now, that’s not nice, Hisana-chan. Remember your manners _._ I would hate to have to _punish_ you for not being a good girl.” I stopped, briefly shocked out of my anger.

“Did…did you just,” I stuttered, at a momentary loss for words.

“Not into BDSM then? Pity,” he sighed wistfully. “Is it the pain that bothers you? It can be such a stimulant and when applied the right way, it can amplify the pleasure _wonderfully.”_

“Akiyama-dono,” one of his men cut in hastily, just as I was about to kick him in the nuts. See how much he liked pain then. “It’s been a long day. How about I get Yukimura-san settled in her room?”

“Very well then, Morita-san. Make sure to let the men know that none of them are to harm her,” Akiyama said, turning serious again. He turned back to me and leaned down, pressing a lightning fast kiss to my lips. “That shade of red is really quite fetching on you,” he murmured, stepping away before my brain could catch up to his actions.

“You…you…you absolute ASSHOLE!” I screamed. It wasn’t like I was a prude—I had no problems with people engaging in sexual contact (it was hard to be when you were friends with prostitutes; two weeks after turning fifty, Mai had insisted on giving me a few…lessons. It was one of the memories I was still trying to repress). That didn’t mean I was okay with my next kiss coming from Akiyama Daiki. I’d hoped that Byaku—nope, not going there. “You jerk! This is sexual harassment!” I wiped my mouth furiously with one hand. “Take it back! I mean it, bastard! I don’t want your kiss!” Catching sight of his remaining guards gaping at me, I hissed out, “ _This never happened._ Got it?”

“Understood,” the guard that had spoken out before—Morita—answered, mouth twitching. I seethed. “Right this way, Yukimura-san.”

“Is he always like that?” I asked sullenly. If I had to spend the next who-knows-how-long dealing with _that,_ I might as well just commit seppuku now.

“Akiyama-dono? Never. Well, it’s true that he does enjoy--” Here he hesitated, reluctant to criticize his boss.

“Messing with people? Yeah, I got that impression,” I grumbled.

“Well, yes. But it’s also true that he normally doesn’t do it to the extent he does it with you. Of course, your reactions _were_ rather entertaining--” My glare at that moment could have burned a hole through metal. “But he really does seem to have taken a liking to you.” Morita glanced at me. “You’ll be introduced to the prisoners and the rest of the household tomorrow, so get a good night’s sleep. Akiyama-dono…despite his actions today, he would never touch you seriously without your permission. I cannot say the same for all the men in his employ. Be careful, Yukimura-san. Not all men are as honorable regarding women as he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! For more of my writing, find me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

I’d _known_ that Akiyama wasn’t a good guy. I’d _known_ that what he was doing was despicable and revolting, something no semi-decent man would have ever _dreamed_ of doing. And yet…despite myself, yesterday had erased many of my reservations towards him. It was just hard to think of the annoyingly charming idiot who’d flirted with me all afternoon (who reminded me way too much of Tatsuya, my mind whispered) as the _villain._ Which was probably his intention all along, the manipulative bastard.

“Yukimura-san? Are you okay?” Morita whispered from behind me, his voice laced with concern. That was another thing. Morita Takeshi, who’d somehow became my appointed guide, was quite possibly one of the most polite, helpful men I’d ever met. And yet…

“How can you _stand_ this?” I said, feeling ill. It took all my willpower just to refrain from gagging. I hadn’t even seen the prisoners yet, but the smell alone was enough to make me stagger. Morita stiffened.

“It is my duty to do as Akiyama-dono commands,” he said haltingly.

“But this?” I asked incredulously, trying to speak without breathing in. Fecal matter, urine, sweat, blood…it all combined to form an overwhelming, _unbearable_ stench of fear and desperation. “…none of those children survived, did they?”

His silence was all the answer I needed.

“ _Why?”_ I asked wildly, suddenly desperate to understand. “He said that he’s doing this in order to figure out a way to increase his own spiritual energy. But _no one_ wants power this badly without a reason. What’s driving him?”

“That is not for me to say,” he said calmly. “Would you like to take a moment to compose yourself before heading down, Yukimura-san?”

“I’m fine,” I said, steadying myself on the rail. God, I was pathetic. I hadn’t even made it down the _stairs_ to the basement yet. The hell kind of healer was I?

We entered a windowless, dimly lit room. There were two metal doors, each dead bolted shut. Sitting down at a table playing cards were two men. Morita coughed lightly to attract their attention and they looked up.

“This is Yukimura Hisana, the healer that Akiyama-dono appointed. You are to treat her with the utmost respect,” Morita stated coolly. One of the men looked me over and sneered.

“Sure don’ look like much. Dainty lil’ thing, ain’t ya?” He asked. My eyes narrowed.

“Whatever. Hope she’s good at her job, Morita. Those shinigami don’t look like they’re gonna last long.” His partner said, spitting on the floor.

“Pansies, the lot of them. Ya’d think they’d be able ta take a bit of pain, but no, beat them up a little and they’re done for,” the first guard said, getting up and walking over to the door furthest from us. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a ring of keys, before selecting one and inserting it into the lock. With a click, the door swung open and he gestured inside with a mocking bow.

“You’re free to head on in,” he said, grinning maliciously. “Enjoy the view.”

I walked inside and had to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. It was cold inside and the walls were made of stone. There were several operating tables in the center of the room and I had to swallow the bile that rose up in my throat. Along the opposite wall were…

I staggered backwards, suddenly finding it extremely difficult to breathe. In one corner there was a girl slumped on the floor, manacles around her wrists and ankles. Her hair was so dirty (with blood, dear god, it was absolutely soaked in _blood_ ) it was hard to tell its original color, but I thought it might have been a dark blonde. A bucket—to function as a makeshift toilet, I guessed—was put beside her. Next to the girl, tied far enough away that they couldn’t touch, was a shinigami with brick red hair. He was leaning against the wall and appeared to be unconscious. His face was a mottled mess of purple and red, one eye swollen so much that I doubted he could even open it anymore. His shihakusho was also ruined; there was barely enough clothing on him to cover his waist and part of his legs.

It was the final member of the trio that caught my attention, however. Black hair that fell to his shoulders, steel gray eyes that glared defiantly at me, unmistakable aristocratic features…I suddenly had a flashback to the first time I’d seen Byakuya. That same arrogance, even when helpless and in chains…the third prisoner could have been Byakuya’s younger brother, appearance wise. Even covered in dirt, sweat, blood and who knows what else, he was undeniably a Kuchiki.

I suddenly felt the urge to curse the entire Kuchiki clan. What was with their penchant for getting kidnapped, anyway?! Was it hereditary? Did they possess a ‘must-get-into-fucked-up-situations-gene’? God damn it, this whole thing was screwed up enough _without_ adding in one of Byakuya’s cousins!

“Yukimura-san? Are you alright? I’m getting you out of here; you clearly need to take a break,” Morita’s worried voice spoke in my ear. It was only then that I realized my knees had collapsed and I was now kneeling on the floor.

“I’m fine, Morita-san. Thank you,” I said, struggling to my feet with an effort. My body was still shaking from shock.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, offering his arm to me as support. As we left the room, the guard caught my eye and smirked. _Weakling,_ he mouthed. I stiffened and turned away. The worst part was, in that moment, I couldn’t even begin to deny it.

***

“There’s no shame in needing a break, you know,” Morita said, handing me a glass of water. “It can definitely be overwhelming the first time.”

“I know,” I said quietly, accepting the glass with a nod of thanks. “…how long have they been there?”

“The shinigami? Oh, four days,” he answered. Four days. Four days of straight torture, and no chance of receiving help. I turned my face away.

“Can you go over my duties again, Morita-san?” I asked. He nodded.

“Of course, Yukimura-san. The scientists will work on them from morning until two in the afternoon. You need not be present for that.”

“Scientists? They’re no more than butchers,” I spat out bitterly, remembering the scalpel marks crossing every inch of the Kuchiki’s chest. There was a dull ringing in my ears.

“Please, Yukimura-san. I do not like this either, but it is not our place to object.” Morita’s soothing voice did nothing to ease my anger. “Think of your family.”

It felt as if I’d been doused in cold water. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?” I asked dully.

“I’m sorry,” Morita said quietly, before continuing. “You will have until four in the afternoon to make sure they are as recovered as possible for the following day. Akiyama-dono has instructed me to tell you that you are only to heal them enough so that they are not at risk of dying.”

“Of course,” I muttered. That man just had no morals, did he? “How did you capture them anyway? And how the hell are you keeping them docile?”

“They were coming back from a mission and came into an inn owned by the Imasaki to recuperate. Imasaki deals in drug trafficking. One of the drugs we deal with has the fortunate side effect of dulling an individual’s grasp of spirit energy.”

“So…they came into an inn and you drugged them?” I asked incredulously. “So that they’re currently unable to control or use their reiatsu?”

“The drug usually would not have such a strong effect. Under normal conditions, it would only impair their use of reiatsu slightly. However, the drug also makes it rather difficult to think clearly, and combined with their various injuries…” Morita trailed off.

So, a drug that impaired concentration and reiatsu control, along with serious injuries, reiatsu depletion and on top of that, their zanpakuto had been removed. No wonder they hadn’t been able to fight back or summon a jigokucho for reinforcements. “I’m assuming this drug is being administered to them on a regular basis?” I asked dryly.

“It is added to their food and water.” Morita admitted. My headache grew stronger. To be honest, I had no idea what to do. Despite Akiyama claiming to ‘like’ me, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that I wouldn’t be watched at all times. If he caught the slightest hint of me trying to help the shinigami, he’d send a team of men off to target my family. However, at the same time…they were _shinigami._ Byakuya’s people. And despite my best efforts, I couldn’t seem to keep from imagining Byakuya in the third shinigami’s place. I didn’t know him but…what kind of friend would I be if I let Byakuya’s cousin be tortured to death? I knew myself well enough that I’d never be able to look Byakuya in the eye again if I let that happen. Hell, I’d never be able to look _myself_ in the mirror again.

Well, all this thinking would be pointless if they died while I was sitting here like an idiot. First things first.

“Morita-san,” I said, voice steady. “Could you please bring me down to the basement again? I’d like to start doing my job now.”

***

“So who are you?” The Kuchiki, or as I’d started calling him in my head, mini-Byakuya asked rudely. I’d asked Morita to bring me a large basin of water and several clean towels, as well as a few rolls of bandages. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any salves so I was stuck using only alcohol for disinfectant.

I gently rubbed some of the grime from the only girl shinigami’s face (or Goldilocks, as I had mentally dubbed her) with a damp towel, before rinsing it clean again.

“I’m the one who’s going to keep you alive,” I said, moving on to her chest area now and barely hid my grimace at the messy sutures stitching her flesh together. A five year old could do better, I thought bitterly, pushing down an increasingly familiar feeling of rage. “But if you’re asking for my name, I’m Yukimura Hisana. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I don’t think either of us are enjoying ourselves right now.”

He huffed a surprised laugh, before abruptly cutting himself off with a scowl. “And exactly how are you going to keep us alive? She hasn’t woken up for the past day and a half.”

“Like this,” I said, holding up a hand that started glowing green within seconds. His eyes widened involuntarily.

“Wha—how are you doing that?” He demanded. “You’re not a shinigami.”

“Oh, so only shinigami are allowed to use spiritual energy?” I scoffed, dissolving her stitches with a wave of reiatsu while simultaneously stitching together muscle tissue and re-growing epithelial cells. The previous stitches were really only doing more harm than good at this point. “Please. Just because healing kido is only taught to shinigami doesn’t mean that people can’t figure it out themselves.” For a few moments, I simply focused on healing the long cut that spanned across her entire chest, before moving on to the bruising at the back of her head.

“How is she?” Mini-Byakuya asked quietly.

“Looks like a concussion, two incision marks crisscrossing her chest, and infection’s beginning to set in…just what kind of tests are they doing on you?” I asked, barely able to keep my voice from shaking.

“Like you don’t know,” he said, voice bitter. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“I just got here yesterday, so actually, I don’t,” I retorted. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Oh, the usual stuff. Endurance tests, seeing how much pain we can take before we scream, testing our responses to different drugs…testing how fast we heal from a cut seems to be one of the favorites,” he said, expression darkening with each word. “Not that you care. You may call yourself a healer, but you’re no better than them, are you? Patching us up just enough so that they can play with us another day, making sure we aren’t inconveniently broken beyond repair…it’d be better for all of us if you just let us die!”

“I can’t do that, shinigami-san,” I said quietly, fighting to keep any expression from my face. “I may be your enemy right now but believe me when I say I mean you no harm. Also, please don’t ask me to let you die again. Right now, your situation seems hopeless but if you die, then what little hope you have right now is lost. Think about your family, shinigami-san.” I grabbed the now dirty basin of water and stood up. “I’ll be back shortly to treat your other friend. Please think over what I said.”

With a short bow, I exited the room and made it as far as the kitchen before my knees gave out on me and I collapsed against a wall. His words…they had hit me harder than I liked to admit. I really _wasn’t_ better than any of the other people in this place. But still…what choice did I have?

***

“Yukimura-san?” I looked up to find Morita in the doorway of my room. I was slumped over on the bed, trying to recover mentally from the emotionally draining healing session I’d just had. Healing kido depended on _intent._ Usually when I converted my reiatsu into healing kido, I was focused entirely on the idea of _healing,_ of recovery and repairing what was damaged and helping people get _better._ The fact that I was _helping_ someone, that I was _making a difference_ was what made the exhaustion and the headaches that came from such prolonged periods of intense mental focus worth it. Knowing that all my hard work would be undone the very next morning…well, I wondered if this was what Sisyphus felt like, rolling the rock up the hill every day only for it to fall back down again.

“Yes, Morita-san?” I asked. “Did you need something?”

“Akiyama-dono has required your presence for dinner,” he said. Lovely. Just the last person I wanted to see.

“Tell him I’ll be down shortly,” I said, walking over to my wardrobe. It had been fully equipped when I came…if I wasn’t so disturbed by everything else, I’d find the fact that every piece of clothing inside had been my exact size amazingly creepy.

***

Akiyama raised an eyebrow when I entered the room. “Making a statement, Hisana-chan?” He asked, motioning towards my all-black outfit.

“This entire place is freaking depressing. I thought I’d dress to match,” I replied, before looking around. “Just the two of us? How very…Beauty and the Beast of you.” I didn’t quite manage to keep the bite out of my tone and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. No matter how angry ( _horrified, disgusted, nauseated)_ I felt, it wouldn’t do anyone any good if I managed to piss him off and landed myself in a body bag.

“Romantic, no?” He chuckled, not seeming at all offended that I had just, for all intents and purposes, compared him to a monster. “I must say, even dressed like you’re about to attend a funeral, you still fit the part of the Beauty very well.”

“This again? You can stop with the pretense, you know. It’s not like I’m going to run off,” I said, brushing off the compliment.

“Who says I’m pretending?” He asked smoothly. I sent him a dubious look.

“I think the real question is, when are you not pretending?” I shot back. “The whole flirting thing doesn’t really go well with the mad-scientist image.”

“I can’t be both?” Akiyama gasped in faux-shock. “Hisana-chan, you wound me. This lack of faith in the complexity of my character just cuts me to the core.”

“I just don’t get why you’re still bothering with the happy-go-lucky façade. I’ve already seen the holding cells; it’s not like I don’t know the type of person you really are.” And if he dropped his mask, I could go back to hating him in peace.

“Oh, Hisana,” he said softly, dropping my honorific for the first time. There was something very predatory in those golden eyes of his and I automatically froze, feeling like a bird trapped in a snake’s gaze. “I would scare you away if I ever fully revealed myself. It would ruin this delightful little repartee we have going on here, and I find myself enjoying your company too much to want that to happen.” Akiyama poured a shot of sake into his cup before leaning back and toasting me lazily.

“You should be flattered, Hisana-chan. Not many people have captured my interest to this extent. Now, Morita tells me that you’ve been down to meet the prisoners already. What did you think?”

“Well, they’ll live to see another day at least,” I said, relaxing slightly now that Akiyama seemed to be back to his carefree self. “How long exactly are you planning on keeping them for?”

“For as long as you can keep them alive, I suppose,” he said, before motioning towards the table. “Eat. You’re probably starving.”

“And then? You can’t just keep kidnapping shinigami, you know. Eventually, someone is going to come and investigate,” I pointed out, spearing a piece of salmon with my chopsticks.

“Of course, I’d wait a period of time before trying again. I’m in no rush,” he answered, before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you go visit your family after a month. You’re not a prisoner here.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumbled around a mouthful of fish. “This is good,” I couldn’t quite keep the tone of surprise out of my voice.

“Well, the 68th is a bit further inwards than Inuzuri, not to mention I have no shortage of money. That the quality of food is better than what you’re used to is only to be expected,” he said smiling. “You know I’d only provide the best for you, darling.”

“Stop calling me that, it’s creepy.” I scowled rather ineffectively at him. “You’re, like, old. Hitting on young girls is generally frowned upon, you know.” At this, Akiyama briefly lost his composure and gaped indignantly at me.

“I’m in the prime of my life!” He squawked. “And besides, it’s not like you’re a _kid._ You’re a bit on the younger side, but you’re still a woman. I’m no pedophile.”

“Please,” I scoffed, hiding my grin behind my napkin. So I _could_ get to him. “You’re practically ancient. Any older and you’d be sprouting gray hairs, old man.” He stared at me for another moment before a wicked smirk spread over his features.

“Well, you know what they say about age and experience,” he practically purred. “So how about it, Hisana- _chan?_ Do you want an _experienced_ man to teach you the finer things in life?” I buried my face in my hands in a futile attempt at hiding my blush.

“Stop. Just stop,” I moaned in despair. “You’re impossible.” 

“Don’t lie, I see you hiding a smile,” he said grinning.

“I’m not smiling. This is me baring my teeth. It is a menacing snarl of doom. And death. And other scary things,” I retorted.

“Whatever you say, Hisana-chan. I know that _deep_ down inside, you like me. Deny it all you want, but I know the truth,” he said, a slight smirk on his lips.

I felt as if I’d been abruptly doused with cold water. For a moment, I’d forgotten _again_ what I’d been called here to do. It was just so _easy_ to forget, I _wanted_ to forget…and the worst part was, he was right. I enjoyed the company of a man who had no reservations against experimenting on and torturing both children and adults. So what did that make me?

“I’m going to be reborn as a snail in my next life,” I muttered under my breath. “A snail that gets trampled on. And later ends up in a salt factory and slowly shrivels away to nothing.”

***

My next healing session with the shinigami didn’t go much better. At least all three of them were conscious this time.

“You’re the healer they hired, right?” The redheaded boy asked weakly, after I’d finished healing the worst of his cuts. “Kuchiki-san told us about you.”

“Did he?” I asked, glancing towards the black-haired shinigami. He was pointedly looking away from me. “It’s true that I became acquainted with him yesterday, but I haven’t been introduced to you yet.”

“You can call me Hiro. That’s my cousin Chiyo over there,” he said, nodding towards the still-silent girl who was watching me with wary pale-blue eyes. “You’ve met Eiji already.”

“Murakami-san,” Eiji said sharply, frowning at him. Hiro rolled his eyes.

“If we’re going to die in this place, I want someone here to know our names. I want them to acknowledge us as human. I refuse to be reduced to a specimen,” he said, staring at me with hard eyes.

“It won’t change anything,” I said softly. “How I view you…it won’t change your fates.”

“Maybe not for us,” Hiro acknowledged. “But this way, you won’t be able to ignore what you’re doing. You won’t be able to _forget_ that you helped murder people who did you no harm. When I die, you won’t see Specimen 2, you’ll see _me—_ Hiro—and you’ll know that you played a part in my death.”

***

I couldn’t get to sleep until four in the morning that night. Instead, I sat on my bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. The walls were soundproof. Everyone was asleep. So why did it feel like I could still hear their screams?

When I finally fell asleep, I dreamt of a dead forest, the ground barren and cold beneath my feet, the lake frozen over. I began sleeping a lot less after that.

***

“They’re wasting away,” I stated without preamble the second I saw Akiyama. He paused before turning to face me.

“It’s only been a week,” he said mildly. “I thought your skills were better than this.”

I scowled. “You have your scientists cutting them open _every day!_ Even the most skilled healer would find keeping them alive tough!” Not to mention the continual risk of infection, the constant blood loss… “But this isn’t about that. I can’t heal them if they don’t fucking _eat,_ Akiyama-san. If their spiritual energy isn’t being replenished, there’s not much I can do!”

“Oh? So they’re refusing to eat now?” He asked.

“It’s pretty obvious when I can practically _see_ them losing weight before my eyes! It’s clear that they know they’re being drugged through their food.”

“Hmm, I can see why that’d be a problem. Very well, tell them that if they don’t start eating, I’ll have my men shove their meals down their throats manually. I might just do that anyway to teach them a lesson. After all, I have a healer right here who can step in if one of them starts choking, don’t I?” Akiyama’s voice was tinged with cruel amusement. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

“Let me bring their meals down to them. I-I’ll try to talk some sense into them,” I whispered. Over the past few days, Chiyo had withdrawn almost completely. Even Hiro, with his increasingly desperate attempts at getting through to her, couldn’t get her to respond anymore. Currently, she did little more than stare at the wall with blank eyes, occasionally letting out a pained whimper. Shoving food down her throat in her current state would be beyond inhumane.

Akiyama stared at me for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. You have one chance. But if this doesn’t work, we’re going with my method, okay?”

“Thank you,” I breathed out, relieved. I hadn’t been sure that he was going to grant my request. He nodded shortly. “Don’t disappoint me.”

***

“Oh? This is different. What, reduced to playing housemaid now?” Eiji spoke up sarcastically.

“Seems like it,” I said, not in the mood for any games. “It’s your lucky day, Eiji-san. Vegetable soup is on the menu today. Yum, yum.” More like a thin broth with a few vegetables thrown in, but still.

“Looks delicious. Almost as appetizing as what we feed our pigs back home,” he said.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I said. Eiji’s face twisted in rage and I winced. Bad choice of words there. Apparently the lack of sleep was getting to me more than I’d previously thought.

“I would _never_ beg you for anything,” he snarled, thrashing against his restraints. Blood trickled down his wrists where the skin was rubbed raw. Yesterday, he’d spat at one of the scientists. As punishment, his arms were now tied tightly above his head and he was forced into an uncomfortable standing position where his feet just barely touched the ground.

“I would never ask you to,” I replied quietly and made my way over to where Hiro was kneeling on the ground, as close to Chiyo as his chains would allow.

“Still no change?” I asked. Hiro glanced at me wryly.

“You might as well take that away. We know that the food’s drugged,” he said.

“The lack of food is killing you faster than the drugs are,” I pointed out.

“At this point, I think it might be a mercy,” Hiro said bleakly. “This is the time of day where we’re the most coherent—right before dinner. It’s bad enough that I can barely even sense my own reiatsu, never mind use it. I’m tired of them taking away my ability to think too.”

“Please,” I begged, lifting up a spoonful of soup. “If you don’t eat willingly, he’ll force you to. I don’t want it to have to come to that.” For a moment, Hiro looked tempted to turn away, if only to spite Akiyama. “Think about Chiyo, Hiro-san. Do you really want them to force feed her?”

Hiro was silent for another moment before nodding, the movement so slight I almost didn’t see it. I brought the spoon to my lips, testing the temperature of the soup. It tasted like ash.

***

I rubbed my temples tiredly, trying to ease my growing headache. It was caused by slight reiatsu exhaustion, so worst of all I couldn’t even treat it. That, and the fact that a week and a half into being recruited as a mad scientist’s unwilling assistant, I was no closer to finding a way out of my situation. There was no way for me to contact the Gotei 13, and I didn’t see any way of helping the shinigami escape that didn’t end with Akiyama sending people after my family. I may have guaranteed us some protection in Inuzuri, but it only took one assassin to succeed…I couldn’t risk it. Hell, even if I did find some way of helping the shinigami escape without alerting Akiyama, they weren’t in any shape to make it far. About the only thing I _could_ do was keep them alive. Which…brought me right back to where I started.

“Are you alright, Yukimura-san?” Morita asked. I smiled slightly at him.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Even a blind man could tell that you are not ‘fine,’” Morita said disapprovingly. “Expending so much energy each day is interfering with your health, isn’t it? And I can see that you haven’t been sleeping properly. I’m sure that if you were to ask, Akiyama-dono would give you a day off.”

“No, no,” I said, waving him off. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, after all.” If my voice became unbearably bitter, neither of us mentioned it. “I think I’ll head down to the kitchen for some tea. Maybe it’ll clear my mind up a bit.”

As I let the water boil, I couldn’t help thinking back to Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro. Hiro’s words kept haunting me- _“I’m tired of them taking away my ability to think too.”_ I’d never actually seen them when the drugs were at their peak effectiveness since they took roughly an hour to set in, but I couldn’t even imagine…after spending so many years relying on my reiatsu, I couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to be so cut off from it. Knowing that it was present, that it was still there, but unable to feel or use it. Not to mention the effects the drug had on the brain. It was part of the reason I could never understand drug addicts. My mind, my memories, my ability to _think_ and figure out what to do…they were all I had in the beginning. They were all I had _now._ What must it feel like to have all of that taken away?

I hesitated before grabbing three more mugs from the shelf in addition to mine, poured tea into all of them, and put them on a tray. Technically it wasn’t _against the rules_ for me to visit the prisoners outside of my scheduled hours…

I paused when I made my way down to the basement. There were no guards sitting at the table, which was unusual, and the door to the holding cells was slightly ajar. Voices coming from the room where the shinigami were chained made me stop and set my tray down.

“The hell do ya think you’re doin’?” One of the voices was saying. “Ya wanna be killed? If the boss finds ya here messin’ around with his prisoners, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Oh shut up, you coward,” another voice scoffed. “Ya really think the boss gives a shit what happens down here? As long as he gets his results, he’s happy. Besides, the only reason the girl’s still alive is ‘cause of that brat doctor. Even so, she probably won’t live longer than a week. She’s dyin’ anyway, she’s so out of it she probably won’ even notice…now’s the best time to do it. Besides, don’t tell me ya weren’t curious about what it’d be like ta fuck a shinigami?” The last few words hit me like a club to the stomach.

“What about the other two? Won’t they tell?” The first voice asked doubtfully. “Maybe boss won’t care, but I don’ wanna risk it. I don’t wanna ever be on the receiving end of _his_ temper, that’s fo’ sure.”

“They’re drugged up ta their fuckin’ eyeballs. Besides, who’d listen ta them even if they weren’t drugged? C’mon, it’s just a little fun. We deserve it. It’ll be quick—in and out, an hour at most.”

“Don’ touch ‘er!” I recognized Hiro’s voice, slurred as it was. “Ya…y’fuckin’ sickos. Lea’…leave ‘er alo’!”

“If you touch her, I’ll kill you.” Eiji vowed. His words came out slow but I could hear how much effort he was putting in to enunciate clearly. The sound of a fist hitting flesh echoed through the room.

“Shut up, pretty boy. I might give you a go too. It wouldn’t take too much ta pretend ya were a girl.”

“That’s enough,” I said furiously, finally shaking myself out of the horrified daze I was in. I couldn’t do anything about the experiments but this...

One of the guards—I was guessing the second speaker—sneered when he saw me. “What are you even doin’ here right now?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” I said calmly. I felt anything but calm. “What matters is that you are going to stop what you were doing immediately. You are not going to _touch_ any of them. You are not going to _ever_ touch any of them. Is that understood?”

“Why you bitch!” He said, stepping forward. The other guard pulled him back, with a muttered, “Sato, don’t. You know what boss said about her.”

He yanked his arm away roughly. “I don’t know why boss puts up with you, but ya must be a damn good fuck for him to do so.” Behind Sato, Hiro’s face darkened and he glared murderously at him. Eiji’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said flatly.

“Don’t deny it, everyone knows that you’re spreading your legs for him.” He leered at me. “Tell me, does he use that pretty little mouth of yours too?”

“You bastard!” Hiro shouted, yanking at his chains. Ignoring the confusion I felt at both Eiji’s and Hiro’s sudden anger—I understood their hatred towards Sato, but he had stopped threatening to rape Chiyo, hadn’t he?—and instead raised a contemptuous eyebrow at Sato.

“Tell me, Sato-san,” I said softly, mouth curving up into a cruel smile that I’d learned from Tatsuya (that I saw on Akiyama’s face every now and then). “Doesn’t it make you feel…inadequate that you’re resorting to rape because you can’t find a willing participant? Your best chance of getting laid is a poor, drugged girl who can’t say no and can’t fight back. You call me a whore, and yet no whore would be willing to sleep with you. My, my, Sato-san. How…pathetic.” I turned away. “Please refrain from doing anything so unprofessional in the future, Sato-san. I would hate to have to report to Akiyama-san that one of his guards is tampering with his prisoners.”

This time, I was expecting the fist that came at my face. Ducking to the side, I dodged his blow easily and whipped around, kneeing him in the stomach. He doubled over and then froze, feeling the cold steel of Tatsuya’s dagger against his neck.

“Don’t move, Sato-san,” I said quietly. “I would hate for my hand to…slip.” To emphasize my point, I slid the blade forward a tiny bit, drawing a thin line of blood on his neck.

“You’re insane,” he croaked. His comrade seemed to be frozen in shock, uncertain what to do. “You won’t get away with this. Boss’ll kill you if ya do anythin’ to me.”

“You’ll find that I am _far_ less expendable than you are,” I said. Lightly, almost teasingly, I trailed the blade down his chest until it rested just above his groin area. “Touch any of them and you’ll find yourself without the ability to procreate. I’m sure the gene pool wouldn’t mind. Now. Do we have an understanding?” I pressed just a bit deeper, so that the tip of the tanto cut slightly through the seam of his pants.

“I understand, I understand!” He said quickly, voice just a bit higher than normal.

“Good,” I stepped away. “Now both you and your friend over there, remove yourselves from this room. I have to deal with enough ugliness in the world _without_ seeing your faces every day.” They scrambled from the basement hastily and I noticed with some satisfaction that both their faces were pale.

“Thank you.” I looked up to find Hiro staring at me. Despite the slurred quality to his words and the dazed look in his eyes, the gratitude in his voice was unmistakable. “I dunno why y’did it, but thank you all the same.”

“As I told Eiji the first day, I don’t mean any of you any harm,” I said quietly. Walking over to Eiji, I began healing his eye, already bruising from where Sato had hit him.

“Why?” Eiji looked up at me with wild eyes. “When you heal us, you take away our pain even though you’re not required to. You’re always patient when you coax Chiyo to eat, and you sometimes hum lullabies to get her to go to sleep. And you just defended us even though that bastard guard could’ve hurt you. It’s clear that you don’t agree with them. So why are you helping them?” I was silent for a long moment. From his position six feet away, Hiro watched me just as intently.

“You both have a family,” I said quietly. They nodded, Hiro glancing briefly at Chiyo as he did so. “Then you understand that there are some things worth sacrificing even your own morals for.”

When I finally walked outside, I found Morita waiting for me. One look at his face told me that he had heard everything.

“I don’t regret anything,” were the first words out of my mouth. My chin lifted up defiantly. “They have enough to deal with. I won’t let the last pieces of their dignity be taken away from them too.”

“I wasn’t going to disagree with you,” he said lightly before his eyes abruptly turned serious. “But…please be careful, Yukimura-san. Akiyama-dono won’t care if you do this much for them, but don’t forget whose side you’re on.”

***

I’d learned early on that things were better for everyone involved if I was on good terms with Akiyama. I’d tried ignoring him on my third day—the next morning, he’d promptly dragged me to the basement and had forced me to watch as a man in a white mask calmly dragged a scalpel down Eiji’s chest, cutting open skin and tissue like a hot knife through butter. He’d let me go half an hour later after I’d broken down crying. Afterwards, he’d turned to me with eyes curved up into happy little crescents, and had told me that he’d ‘been bored without me around.’ I got the message. Even a week later, I still couldn’t get Eiji’s screams out of my head.

If I got along well with him though, he was happy and more importantly, he was more tolerant of any mildly disobedient actions. To do that however, it meant that I had to, if not _forget,_ then at least make a valiant attempt at ignoring his…darker side. It was easier than I thought it’d be. Paste on a smile, pretend that everything was fine—what was one more mask, after all?

“This is impossible!” I scowled at the goban in front of me. “How do you enjoy this game? You literally just put white and black stones down on a piece of wood.”

“Go is one of the greatest strategy games ever invented. You can learn a lot about a person from how they play go. Assuming that they aren’t just putting stones down in random places like you seem to be doing half the time,” Akiyama said, mouth twitching.

“More like the most frustrating game ever invented. And for your information, just because you can’t comprehend my strategy doesn’t mean that I’m ‘putting stones down in random places’, you bastard. Why can’t we play shogi instead?” I asked. At least shogi was a bit like chess. The pieces had actual _names_ and _roles_ and _purposes._

“Because I need an opponent and it’s funny to see the facial expressions you make when something like this happens,” he said, capturing another large group of my stones. My glare darkened about ten shades. Even with my inexperienced eye, I could tell that there was no way I could recover from that.

“I resign,” I muttered with poor grace, before glaring at him challengingly. “Again. I’m not giving up until I win.”

“Really? For someone who claims to hate the game so much, you sure are insistent upon playing it,” he teased. “I think this is the third game this morning? Not that I mind much. You haven’t lasted past half an hour yet.”

“I just don’t want to accept losing to an idiot like you,” I retorted. He rolled his eyes.

“I told you, you’re going about this the wrong way. You have to think of the goban as a battlefield, with you as the general. You use your stones to capture your enemies’ territory, to cut off their escape routes, to corner and crush them.” Akiyama eyed me speculatively. “And like a general, you also have to accept your losses. If you hadn’t spent so much time trying to save your stones in the right corner, you would’ve lasted longer. You should’ve cut your losses there fifteen minutes ago and focused on defending the rest of your territory.” At my stubborn expression, he sighed.

“You can’t save everyone, darling. Your problem is that you care far too easily and far too much.” I didn’t think we were talking about the game anymore. “…Morita told me about what happened with the girl shinigami the other day.” Akiyama’s face hardened. “Don’t get attached, Hisana-chan. It won’t end well for you.”

Most of the time it was relatively easy to ignore the fact that the man who I was, despite my best efforts, beginning to see as a friend of sorts, who enjoyed teasing me, who taught me strategy games, was the same person who’d ordered the murder of dozens of children without flinching and was currently in the process of torturing three innocent people in a mad bid for power. Then he’d say something like this and I’d find myself unable to even look at him.

“Since when has compassion become something to be avoided?” I whispered, looking down at the board. Akiyama paused, something like pity crossing his face when he looked at me.

“In our world, kindness will only be your downfall.” His gaze lingered on the dark shadows forming under my eyes, the way my cheeks had grown increasingly hollow over the past few days. “You would do well to remember that, Hisana.”

***

“Why aren’t you a shinigami?” It took me a while to comprehend the words, Eiji’s voice was so rough.

“I told you not to talk, you idiot. Your vocal cords are still recovering,” I scolded. I’d put both Hiro and Chiyo into an induced sleep—a brief reprieve from the nightmares, at least. They needed to get more rest anyway.

“Answer my question and maybe I won’t,” Eiji said stubbornly as I began gently cleaning the grime from his face. “You certainly have more than enough reiatsu, and your control is better than that of most Academy graduates I’ve seen. Why stay here?”

“Because I’m more needed here. Besides, what do I have to gain by becoming a shinigami? My family lives here. I know the people here. I can help whomever I want—from the poorest child to the starving beggar to the wife being abused by her bastard husband.” I rinsed my towel. “Not to mention, you shinigami seem to be a reckless bunch,” I continued, thinking of Byakuya. “I’d probably go crazy trying to get you guys to stay still and _stop fighting_ when you’re _clearly_ injured.”

“You seem to know us pretty well,” Eiji said, studying me with a bemused expression.

“I’ve discovered it’s a guy thing over my decades doing this. And that the more powerful a guy is, the less likely they are to listen. I just applied that knowledge to shinigami and extrapolated,” I deflected. Eiji snorted.

“Fair enough. There isn’t much I can say to that,” he admitted. “Still though, you could do plenty of good in the Seireitei. And no person would be able to blackmail you like Akiyama is doing.”

“…Akiyama is a rare case. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t considered becoming a shinigami,” I said honestly. “But every time I thought about it…I’ve heard some stuff about what the Gotei 13 gets up to. Only rumors, but isn’t every rumor based in fact? And if I became a shinigami, I wouldn’t have the power to say no, even if I disagreed with the order I was given. Here, I still have _some_ freedom. But once you enter the Gotei 13, there’s no backing out. They _own_ you, up until the point where you aren’t useful to them anymore and they throw you away.”

“That’s a pessimistic way of looking at it,” Eiji said after a moment. “But…you’re not entirely wrong.”

“That’s not to say that I dislike all shinigami. I may have some issues with how the system is run, but I don’t have any problems with shinigami personally,” I said, watching Eiji’s slightly downcast expression. We were both silent for a moment.

“What’s that?” He asked abruptly. I followed his gaze to where I’d been absently fiddling with the necklace Byakuya had given me. “That necklace…it’s very well made.”

“Ah. It was a gift. From a very close friend of mine,” I said awkwardly. I still hadn’t told Eiji about my friendship with Byakuya. How the hell was I supposed to bring it up? ‘Oh yeah, by the way, I know that I work for the people currently cutting you open, but I’m kinda sorta friends with your cousin. Not that this information is going to help you in any way, since Byakuya only comes around once every few months. Oh, and I may have a tiny crush on him too.’

Yeah, no.

“Some friend. He can afford to give you something like that, but he leaves you behind in this kind of environment?” Eiji scoffed.

“Hey, he’s gone a lot,” I said, suddenly defensive. “And he has no idea what I’m dealing with right now.” I paused, before I forced a lighthearted smile on my face. “And what happened to hating my guts? That sounded almost like concern, Eiji-kun. I would have thought you’d be all for dumping me in a forest somewhere for hollows to find.”

Eiji leveled a flat look at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I forgave you a while ago. After what you did for Chiyo, how could I not?”

***

 

“…so that was how Rukia’s rabbit obsession started. All because of a stupid comic on some cartoon bunny named ‘Chappy.’ The next day, she asked Mitsuo to take her to the forest. The little brat somehow caught two rabbits and pleaded for a week to let her keep them before we finally gave in,” I said, recalling the memory fondly.

Chiyo shifted a bit, a glint of life entering her eyes for the first time since yesterday. As far as I knew, she hadn’t talked since her sixth (my second) day here, but at this point, I’d take anything I could get.

“Kaori wasn’t happy. She’s mildly allergic to them, and couldn’t stop sneezing whenever they were around. Kazuki actually thought they were for dinner when he first saw them. I still don’t think Rukia’s forgiven him completely for that.” I smiled slightly, bandaging up Chiyo’s arm. “Mitsuo pretends to be indifferent, but I catch him sneaking carrots to them every now and then.”

 Gingerly, I placed a hand on the back of Chiyo’s neck and sent a wave of reiatsu down her spinal cord. It was something I’d been experimenting with—normally my techniques required a steady input of energy. I’d been trying to change that, to find a way to make them more permanent and independent, starting with ways to numb the body. The reiatsu I’d infused her spinal cord with wouldn’t do much—I didn’t want to risk screwing up her nervous system—but it would coat her nerve cells, dull the signals being sent to the brain. Best of all, the effects would last for hours and since my reiatsu would fade eventually, there were no permanent effects. Unfortunately, it also affected motor movement, but since it wasn’t like any of them were going anywhere…

“She’s happier when you do that. Tell her stories, I mean,” Hiro spoke up quietly. “She loves animals too, you know. We have a garden back home, and any time she found an injured bird, mouse, or squirrel she’d bring it back home and nurse it back to health herself. I always thought that she’d go into the Fourth Division—that’s the squad in charge of healing—but instead she followed me. Fat lot of good that did her,” he added bitterly.

“You’re her cousin; I’m not surprised that she’d want to be close to you.” I said, before hesitantly asking, “What’s it like living in the Seireitei?” I’d found that keeping them distracted, reminding them that there was a world outside this cell…even if it didn’t exactly give them hope, it did offer a temporary escape. It was part of the reason I’d started sharing stories of my family after all.

“It’s beautiful.” This time it wasn’t Hiro, but Eiji who spoke up. “The entire city is made of white stone, and the entire place _glows_ when the sun sets. The cherry blossoms should be blooming soon,” he said a bit dreamily.

“Eiji’s family owns the best cherry trees in the Seireitei,” Hiro explained to me. 

“My cousin loves them,” Eiji said, shrugging lightly. “He walks through our gardens all the time.” A note of wistfulness entered his voice. “I would’ve liked to see them one last time.”

“Your gardens sound lovely. Do they have any ponds in them?” I asked, carefully redirecting the conversation back into safer territory. I couldn’t deal with thinking about Eiji’s chances of survival right now. Eiji brightened up briefly.

“Of course. Our gardens were designed by the best architects in Soul Society. We have streams, bridges, ponds…my favorite part is watching the koi fish. They’re huge, have been growing for decades, and we have them in every conceivable color.”

I laughed softly. “I have a little brother—Renji—who’s terrified of large fish.”

“He’s scared of _fish?”_ Hiro asked incredulously.

“Mm hm,” I nodded. “See, about a decade or so back, Mitsuo and Kazuki took the kids fishing by the river. Renji was boasting on and on about how he would catch the largest fish. He went upstream and after a little while, he felt a tug on his fishing line. At first he couldn’t reel it in, no matter how hard he pulled. Then, out of nowhere, out jumps this massive fish on the end of his line. It literally smacked him in the face and the next thing we knew, he was screaming about it biting his nose. Rukia didn’t stop laughing for hours.”

“Did that really happen?” Eiji asked, eyes bright with amusement. I nodded, biting my lip to keep from smiling. “He’s still traumatized by the experience.”

“Poor kid,” Hiro said, shaking his head. He was silent for a moment. “Thanks, you know. For trying to cheer us up. And for all that you’ve done for us. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” I protested, a bitter note entering my voice. “It’s the least I could do, after all.” The only thing I could do.

“No, but really. You’ve always been kind to us and despite everything…you’re as much a prisoner here as we are. Hell, you don’t look much better than we do right now, and that’s really saying something. Kinda like a half-starved panda, actually,” Hiro said, glancing at the bags under my eyes and how my hair hung limply from where it was tied into a messy ponytail. I hadn’t bathed in a week.

“Shut up, you raccoon,” I retorted, although there was no heat in it. “But if you’re really thankful, repay me by not dying. It’d be really ungrateful of you if you still died despite all the effort I’ve put into keeping you alive.”

“There. Like that. Even when you’re being sarcastic, you still show that you _care.”_ Hiro looked faintly bemused.

“You’ve kept us sane over the past few weeks. If…if we ever escape, we won’t forget that,” Eiji said earnestly. “We’ll get you out too.”

I sighed, reaching over and flicking him on the head. “Worry about yourself, idiot. Your concern is touching, but unnecessary. _I’m_ not the one who needs saving.”

“And even if you did, you wouldn’t accept any help.” Eiji said shrewdly.

“If I can’t even help myself, how can I possibly help the ones I’m responsible for?” I asked, shaking my head. “I…can’t afford to be weak.”

 ***

Omake

“Aha!” Tatsuya jumped out from behind a chair, brandishing a wooden sword. “We have discovered your evil lair, fiend! Now hand over the princess!”

“Curses!” Kazuki cried out, sporting a frankly ridiculous fake mustache. He waved around a wooden sword of his own. “I have been caught! Well, no matter. You’ll never defeat me, you son of a moldy potato!”

“This is so stupid,” Kaori mumbled under her breath. I elbowed her and she sighed heavily.

“Yes, there is no way that you can beat us, for we are the all-powerful evil overlord Kazuki and the mighty dragon Kaori,” she deadpanned.

“Of course we will!” Tatsuya yelled dramatically, bringing a hand up to his chest, a giggling Rukia behind him. “Never fear, Princess Hisana, we will rescue you in no time! Now onward, brave companions!”

“Giddyup! Giddyup!” Rukia cried out from where she was sitting on Horio’s back. She yanked on his hair and I winced. It looked painful. “C’mon Horsy, go! Run! We gotta save nee-chan!”

“Why do I gotta be the horse?” He whined, reaching up to rub his scalp. Rukia apparently didn’t like that because she kicked him roughly in the side. “Baka-Horio, horsies don’t have hands!” I was so proud of her. “Now hurry up and go!”

Deciding it was time for me to jump in, I swooned slightly from my ‘tower’ (a table that I was standing on). “What is that I see yonder? Is that--? It is! The brave warrior Tatsuya and the valiant knight Rukia atop her regal steed! They have come to rescue me! I am saved!” I put on an exaggerated expression of worry, bringing my hands up to my mouth. “But wait! What of the dread villain Kazuki and the horrible dragon Kaori?”

“They are no match for our skills, Princess! Do not fear!” Tatsuya yelled. He nudged Horio with one foot. Horio rolled his eyes but obligingly charged forward at Kazuki.

“You owe me so much for doing this, Hisana,” he growled as he began crawling forward at top speed.

Rukia shrieked with laughter as Horio ran forward and mockingly thrust her own toy sword into Kazuki’s stomach, causing him to collapse with a dramatic wail.

“Sir Rukia has succeeded in defeating her foe! But it appears as if the brave Tatsuya is having some trouble. Will he be beaten by the awful, fire-breathing Kaori? Is this the end?” I gasped dramatically. From his prone position on the ground, Kazuki appeared to be shaking with laughter. Tatsuya’s lips were twitching constantly and I could see him struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh no! Whatever will happen?”

Rukia looked up and her face scrunched up into an adorably determined expression. “Dun’ worry, Tatsuya-nii! I’ll save ya!” With that, she charged towards Kaori, leaping forwards to tackle her around her waist and sending them both flying. Suppressing a grin, Tatsuya picked up his sword and held it at Kaori’s throat.

“Alas. I have been defeated.” Kaori said monotonously. “Good prevails over evil once more.”

Rukia cheered and Tatsuya reached over to give her a high five. “We did it, Rukia-chan!” He crowed, picking her up and spinning her around. “We showed them, didn’t we?”

“You sure did,” I said, smiling fondly at both of them. “You were very brave. You especially, Rukia-chan—I was very impressed by the way you stepped in when your Tatsuya-nii was in danger.” Rukia preened, a blinding smile on her face. I bent down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead before continuing. “As a reward for saving me, I, Princess Hisana, bestow upon you this token of my gratitude.”

 I nodded towards Mitsuo, who’d just entered the living room carrying a plate with a small cake on it. Rukia’s eyes widened, filling with wonder as she took in the sight of the cake before her—a combined effort from me, Kaori and Mitsuo.

“I-it has bunnies on it,” she breathed out softly. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yes it does. Happy birthday, imouto.” Rukia turned to stare at me with watery eyes.

“It’s for me?”

“Of course it is, silly girl,” Kazuki said, ruffling her hair. “Who else would it be for?”

“I—thank you,” she stuttered, still speechless. “Did—did you guys make it?”

“It was mostly Mitsuo. He’s the one who spent the past hour putting finishing touches on it,” Tatsuya said. “Your sister and Kaori just helped a bit.” Rukia stared at it for a bit longer before setting it on the table and tacking Mitsuo in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Mitsuo-nii! Thanks everyone! This is the best birthday ever!” Rukia babbled excitedly.

“Glad you had fun, twerp,” Horio smirked. Kaori flicked him on the forehead before pulling Rukia into a hug. “You’re a decade old now. Be proud.”

“Come on. Let’s go find a knife to cut that cake with, okay?” Mitsuo began gently tugging Rukia towards the kitchen. “I’ll bet you’re hungry after all that playing. And since you’re so grown up, you get to cut the cake.”

“Really?” Rukia asked, bouncing after Mitsuo. “Nee-chan _never_ lets me hold a knife, even though _she_ uses them all the time and I’m not a _baby_ any more…”

***

“Not a fan of cake?” Tatsuya remarked, looking pointedly at my thin slice. I blinked, distracted from my thoughts.

“No, I like it well enough. Bu it’s not like there was much in the first place. And it’s Rukia’s birthday—she should be able to enjoy as much as she wants.” I smiled a bit wistfully, looking towards where Rukia was smearing frosting over Horio’s face. “I can’t believe that she’s _ten_ already. She’s growing up so fast.” When Tatsuya didn’t reply, I looked up to see him staring at me with an odd look on his face.

“You’re kind of weird, you know that?” He said finally. At my indignant expression, he hastily continued, “Not in a bad way! Just…you don’t really act your age, you know? Like today—you acted more like a parent taking care their kid than a kid yourself.”

“I’m almost twenty,” I replied a bit stiffly.

“Yeah, but…you look barely twelve. And although people tend to be more mature than they appear due to our slow aging, even by our standards you’re really young. By all rights, we should be taking care of you as well as Rukia.”

“And instead, you made me an equal. I’d rather have you guys take my opinions into account when making decisions and _respect me_ than being treated as a child any day. Besides, if I acted like any ordinary kid, you never would have taken me in,” I pointed out. Tatsuya smiled wryly.

 “You’re right, as always. Sometimes I forget how young you are…talking to you is like talking to Mitsuo or Kazuki and they have _decades_ on you.” He paused, a fond expression entering his eyes. “It’s great that you’re so mature, Hisana-chan. And despite my words, being a mini-adult isn’t a bad thing. Just…remember that it’s okay to be a kid too sometimes, alright? You don’t have to be so responsible all the time. Let us take care of you the way you take care of us.” He reached over, wiping a smudge of frosting from the corner of my chin. “Don’t be so eager to grow up, Hisana-chan. You’ll develop wrinkles and that’d be an awful shame with how pretty you are,” he teased, voice warm.

I scowled, trying to hide my blush. “Stop being weird.” Stupid Tatsuya with his stupid compliments and his stupid smile. He chuckled and dumped the untouched portion of his own cake onto my plate.

 “Eat up, Hisana-chan,” he said, clasping me on the shoulder with one hand briefly before walking away. I stared down at my plate. Half of a frosted bunny stared back at me. With a heavy sigh, I took a large bite. Maybe Tatsuya had a point. Taking care of Rukia was _my_ responsibility, _my_ promise…but that didn’t mean I had to be an adult all the time either.


	14. Chapter 14

“You’re being awfully quiet today, Hisana-chan. What’s on your mind?” Akiyama asked, sipping a glass of wine.

“Nothing. Just tired,” I answered. It was partially the truth, at least.

“Yes, it doesn’t look like you’ve been sleeping well lately. You know, if you dislike your bed so much, you’re always welcome in mine,” he said smirking. I rolled my eyes at him. About the only good thing that came out of this was that I’d built up some immunity to his flirting.

“I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

“Oh? I don’t know, that seems so uncomfortable. Would you be opposed to a table instead? My desk is rather sturdy as well.”

“If your company is involved, I think I’ll pass,” I grumbled.

“I’m hurt, Hisana-chan. I really thought that we had something special.” He said dramatically, clutching his chest in mock pain.

“Please stop doing that. It’s creepy. I’ve told you, you’re way too old for me.”

“That’s okay, I’m willing to wait for you to catch up. It’s possible that my aging will slow down once I figure out how to increase my spirit energy,” Akiyama said casually. My breath caught. It had become an unspoken rule between us not to bring up anything relating to the experiments at dinner. To be honest, I didn’t want to know. If he did get caught, the less I was involved and the less I knew, the better.

Akiyama glanced at my stiffened posture and sighed. “We really need to do something about those pesky morals of yours, darling. It’s been almost three weeks and you’re still not over it?”

“It’s inhumane,” I said coldly. “You’re making me go against every single one of my values, and I’m supposed to be ‘over it’?!”

“Why do you care so much anyway? You’ve known them for less than a month,” he asked. “As a doctor, you should know how to distance yourself from your patients by now. You must have had patients who’ve died on you before.”

“But in those cases, I knew that I had done my _absolute best_ to save them. I’m a healer, Akiyama-san. And what you’re having me do here isn’t _healing_ them, it’s preparing them for more torture the next day.”

“Torture is such a harsh word. I prefer ‘necessary research in the name of scientific innovation and advancement.’”

“You and I both know that it amounts to the same thing, Akiyama-san,” I spat out. Akiyama’s eyes darkened.

“Careful, Hisana-chan. You are coming very, very close to irritating me. I may find your company entertaining, and you are admittedly the best doctor within fifteen districts of here, but in no way does that mean you aren’t expendable if you anger me,” he murmured. “Besides, I find it terribly hypocritical of you to judge me so harshly. How helpless would you feel, I wonder, if someone slit your sister’s throat in front of you?” My throat constricted, a blind panic rising up within me at the thought. But before I could say anything, Akiyama continued.

“I’ve felt that helplessness before. When I found my brother half naked in a dirty alleyway, blood between his thighs and a knife in his gut. He bled out in front of me, you know. The bastard who did it stabbed me too, but I survived. I made a promise that night to myself that I’d grow strong enough to track down my brother’s murderer and kill him in the most painful way possible.” Akiyama’s tone was almost conversational. “It’s funny. Everyone sees shinigami as ultimate protectors, saving us ordinary souls from hollows. But what do you do when it’s a shinigami you need saving from? Who protects us from them?” He laughed bitterly and glanced at me knowingly.

“Don’t even pretend that if a shinigami raped and killed your sister, you wouldn’t throw all of your so-called morals out of the window. You’d do whatever it took to gain the power to obliterate him. Or at the very least, prevent something like that from happening to someone you cared about again.”

I wasn’t even sure if Akiyama was telling the truth. He could’ve made the entire thing up just to manipulate me, which was probably the more realistic option. Something in his eyes however—perhaps how terribly empty they were—made me think he was being honest. Or maybe there was just a part of me that hoped he was. And if he was…well, we were more alike than I liked to think.

“It still doesn’t excuse your actions,” I whispered.

“No,” he agreed. “But you’d do the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

I couldn’t outright deny it, and my silence said more than any words ever could.

***

Eiji’s condition was worsening. He had reacted…badly to the newest batch of experimental drugs he’d been injected with. After he’d started convulsing, the scientists had moved him to a separate room upstairs and had chained him down to a table.

“Hey,” I said softly, brushing some of his hair back from where it covered his sweaty forehead. He shivered, leaning slightly into my touch. I’d managed to remove most of the drug from his system. Speed up his liver’s metabolizing rate, aid his kidneys in filtering out the drug…who knew that all my practice with sobering Kazuki up would come in so handy?

“Hi—sana? I…I can’t think,” he said blearily, forehead furrowing in frustration. “Where…am I? Hiro? Chiyo? Why…can’t I move?”

“They’re all fine. Relax,” I said soothingly, sending a mild wave of healing reiatsu into his body to disintegrate what drug molecules remained. “See the sunset?” I pointed towards the window. Eiji squinted towards the light. This had probably been the first time he was allowed to see the sky in his time here.

“I’m so…tired, Hisana,” he mumbled, words beginning to slur together. “My head hurts. Everythin’ hurts. Can you just…just talk to me? Like you do with Chiyo? I…I wanna forget, just…just fo’ a moment.” I closed my eyes, swallowing heavily.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. You can feel the sunlight, can’t you? Warm against your face. See the way the entire sky just blends into orange and yellow and red? The way the sunlight glows off the all the buildings in the Seireitei, how it causes the white tower to shimmer?” Perhaps it was a good thing Eiji was so out of it, since he didn’t seem to notice that there was no way I should have been able to go into this level of detail. I’d heard Byakuya talk about the Seireitei enough that I could almost picture it myself.

“The sakura blossoms are blooming too, shades of pink and white and red. Can you see the way they drift in the wind? Like it’s snowing flower petals, causing the entire city to smell sweet. The ponds have all melted and you can see fish again for the first time in months. Bright flashes of gold and white and black and red in an otherwise dark pond. It’s quiet in the gardens, unlike in the rest of Seireitei. Peaceful. Safe.” My voice trailed off. Eiji stirred slightly.

“Hisana?” He said, voice almost inaudible. “I want to go home.”

I squeezed his hand tightly, fighting back tears.

“I know,” I whispered. “Believe me, I know.”

***

When I finally deemed Eiji’s condition acceptable, I headed straight for my bedroom, ignoring Morita’s concerned glance. Slamming the door shut, I punched the wall as hard as I could.

“Goddamn it!” I screamed, leaning my forehead against the wall and ignoring the blood dripping from my knuckles. That night, a blizzard blazed through my imaginary forest. The trees stood lifeless around the lake’s shore, and the mysterious voice—warm, soothing, always slightly muffled—was nowhere to be heard.

***

“Do you need anything else, Yukimura-san?” Morita asked from behind me. Technically I was allowed to go outside the house, as long as I had someone accompanying me.

“Just some crackers, and I’m good,” I said, checking off the latest item on my shopping list. “Oh, and some candy. I can’t believe Akiyama doesn’t like sweets, it’s practically sacrilege.”

Morita chuckled. “Not everyone is as obsessed with sugar as you are, Yukimura-san. It’s astounding that you’re as thin as you are.”

“Fast metabolism, Morita-san,” I said, scanning the streets for a vendor selling candy. It was then that I felt it. Stiffening, I turned around and found a dark haired man with light green eyes dressed in plain clothes staring straight at me.

That spirit energy…it wasn’t familiar but there was no mistaking it. Despite his clothes, I was absolutely certain that the man behind me was a shinigami. He was suppressing it, I could tell—the way his aura felt muted the way Byakuya’s often was—but the faint thrum of power edging it…I glanced towards his waist. Sure enough, he had a sword attached to his belt.

“Is something the matter, Yukimura-san?” I snapped out of it at the sound of Morita’s voice.

“It’s nothing. Just noticed that the ramen stand over there is having a special today,” I smiled, and very carefully did not react. Inside, my thoughts were racing. Morita chuckled.

“You and your ramen, I swear. Sometimes I find it is hard to believe that you are a doctor, Yukimura-san. Your favorite foods seem to all be high-sodium, high-sugar or deep-fried things.”

“As a doctor, I understand the value of comfort food,” I sniffed, forcing my tone to remain lighthearted and unconcerned, subtly sneaking a glance back towards the shinigami. He was still watching me, observing me curiously. It was probably my spirit energy that had caught his attention. During his last visit, Byakuya had mentioned that in addition to having higher than average reserves, my reiatsu also felt…controlled. Trained. Something that was uncommon to say the least, especially considering the fact that it was clear I wasn’t a shinigami. Now how to make him follow me?

I sighed, blaming Akiyama’s influence for what I was going to do next. When Morita’s head turned away, I quickly looked back towards the shinigami and winked, mouthing _follow me_ and jerking my head towards the ramen shop. With any luck, he wouldn’t think that I was hitting on him…although considering the amused grin forming at his mouth, it was too late. However, it accomplished what I’d hoped it would as I caught him entering the shop a few minutes after Morita and I did.

“Please do not order over five bowls of ramen, Yukimura-san.” Morita said tiredly. I simply grinned in reply.

 “Would I do something like that, Morita-san?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “And then complain about having a stomachache later.” I pouted.

“Fine. I’ll settle with two and eat a snack later. Happy now?” I watched out of the corner of my eye as the shinigami sat down two tables away, near the entrance.

“I suppose so,” he sighed, reluctantly amused. When my order came, I hurriedly reached for the nearest bowl.

“Careful, the bowl is hot--” The waiter said urgently, reaching out a hand to stop me. Too late. I hissed in pain at the hot temperature and dropped the bowl of ramen into my lap, splattering soup and noodles everywhere.

“Yukimura-san! Are you alright?” Morita asked alarmed. I grimaced as the hot broth burned my legs, but nodded.

“Yeah, it’s just--” I looked towards the shop owner pleadingly. He hurriedly made his way over.

“I have a daughter who’s about your size, I can grab some of her clothes for you to wear. There’s a bathroom upstairs where you can change,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I’ll be sure to recompense you, of course.” Small shops like this normally didn’t let customers use their bathrooms, which were often private, so I had to get a bit…creative. As soon as I was alone, I quickly cleaned off, changed, and then dug out my earlier shopping list. I’d never been so thankful that it was a habit of mine to carry around a pen and paper whenever I went shopping, in case I suddenly remembered something I needed to buy. On the back of the list, I scribbled a short summary of Akiyama’s actions and the location where Eiji and the others were being kept. I hesitated, before writing one last line.

_They won’t last for much longer. Please hurry._

Tucking the note into a pocket, I made my way back downstairs. As I’d hoped, the shinigami was still there, halfway through eating his meal.

“I’ve already paid the owner for the clothes,” Morita said, looking at me disapprovingly. “You should be more careful, Yukimura-san.”

“Ahaha, thanks Morita-san,” I said sheepishly, ignoring the rising guilt I felt at what I was about to do. “Maybe I’ll just eat back at headquarters. I’m not really in the mood for ramen anymore.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be, after having spilled it all over yourself,” he muttered. “Very well. Let’s go.”

As we walked by the entrance, I made sure to bump lightly into the shinigami. When he reached out to steady me, I slipped the note into his sleeve, carefully not looking back. I’d made my choice—had made it from the instant I’d first seen him. If my hands shook slightly…well, no one was around to see.

***

The first sign that something was wrong was the yelling.

I shot up in my bed, staring at the door with wide eyes. Scrambling out of my room, I barely registered the sight of a guard fighting—and losing—against a black clad figure before I was sprinting to the basement. The sight of the two guards slumped over drunk made me pause for an instant, before I grabbed one of their clubs and knocked them both out for good measure. I was in the midst of trying to detach the ring of keys from Guard #1’s belt when quiet footsteps made me look up.

“So it _was_ you. Somehow I’m not surprised,” Akiyama said, an eerie lack of expression on his face. His voice was calm, pleasant even, as though we were talking about something as simple as the weather.  I took an uneasy step back. “How long have you been planning to betray me, Hisana-chan?”

“Not long actually. I saw the opportunity this afternoon and took it.” From the moment I’d registered the shinigami’s reiatsu, I’d seen two possible courses of action play out in front of me. Only one ended with Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro getting home.

“I am curious though as to how you managed to tip them off? I had someone watching you at all times. And no matter how pleasant Morita may seem, his loyalties are to me first and foremost.”

“I slipped one of them a note when Morita wasn’t looking,” I admitted. “I wasn’t always a successful healer, you know. At one point, I had thievery down to an art. It wasn’t too hard to figure out how to reverse-pickpocket someone.” My voice didn’t come out as steady as I’d hoped.

“I see.” Akiyama’s hand drifted towards his sword. “In that case, I have no more to say to you. I can forgive many things, but betrayal is not one of them. I cannot allow you to live.” I stiffened, whipping out my tanto just in time to deflect his blow, my arms buckling from the strain.

“They’ll be down here any moment!” I said, shoving him off.

“That’s true,” he allowed, slashing his sword in a series of movements that I barely managed to keep up with. “And I have no doubt that they’ll kill me when they do. It won’t be before I’ve killed you and disposed of the prisoners, though.”

Fighting a relatively-skilled swordsman with a comparatively tiny dagger was not easy. Nor fun. It was only thanks to my sparring sessions with Mitsuo and Kazuki that I wasn’t dead yet. Even so, I was panting heavily and bleeding from a deep cut on my left shoulder.

“Do you honestly believe that you can defeat me?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Not with swordsmanship,” I admitted before ducking under his arm and punching him in the stomach, enhancing my fist with reiatsu. He stumbled back, and barely blocked my follow up blow. A flash of rage appeared on his face for the first time.

“You think that just because you have spiritual energy, you can win?” He growled. His sword came down faster than I could block it and slashed across my hip. I couldn’t help it—I cried out in pain.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Hisana. Always going on about the moral high ground, when in truth you’re no better than me. You say that I’m a murderer—what do you think is going to happen to every single person of this household? Men who have wives, children, families…they’re all going to die tonight.” I flinched, lowering my dagger for a split second, and he seized the opening to shove me against the wall by my throat.

“Fifty one people in this household,” he whispered, fingers tightening. I gasped for breath, hands clenching uselessly around the one he was using to hold me off the ground. “Morita Takeshi among them, the man who has been nothing but kind to you these past few weeks. Who argued on your behalf. ‘I’m worried about Yukimura-san, Akiyama-dono, she hasn’t been eating properly. Let her take a break, Akiyama-dono, let her visit her family. She’s been so tired and sad lately,’” Akiyama mocked. “And this is how you repay him? Did you even think of what would happen to him the moment you slipped the shinigami that note?”

My eyes narrowed. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Didn’t you teach me that?” I spat. The truth was, I _had_ considered it. But Eiji, Hiro and Chiyo were my patients—they were my first priority. And the only way to save them while simultaneously ensuring my family’s safety was to make sure none of Akiyama’s men remained.

Triage—one of the first things I’d learned as a doctor in my past life. Sometimes, there was no way to save everybody. _It’s for the best,_ I thought firmly. It sounded hollow, even to myself.

With a final burst of effort I kicked out while simultaneously pressing down on a pressure point on his arm. He cursed, letting me go abruptly. I dropped to the ground and before he could recover, rested the tip of my tanto against his heart. He froze, a wry smile curling his lips.

“Well, it looks like I underestimated you. Going to kill me, darling?” Akiyama asked calmly. For a moment I hesitated, staring at his accepting face. His eyes were…soft. Understanding. Familiar, from almost a month of shared dinners, long conversations, board games, lighthearted banter. My hand loosened the slightest bit.

The next thing I knew, my arm was being yanked up and twisted. An audible crack echoed throughout the room and then the pain hit.

I gasped, barely suppressing a scream of agony as Akiyama leaned in closely, still holding my wrist. He plucked the dagger from my hand and tossed it to the side. “I warned you, didn’t I, that you kindness would be your downfall one day?” He murmured into my ear before throwing me to the ground. I barely had time to register my back hitting the floor when his foot came down, hard, on my ribs. Another two sickening snaps reached my ears and I couldn’t help the strangled sob that forced its way out of my throat. Akiyama looked down at me with an unreadable expression.

“Such a waste,” he sighed. “I just have one last question for you. If you hadn’t tipped off that shinigami, none of this would have happened. You would have been permitted to go home in another week—the prisoners weren’t going to last longer than that anyway. You could have seen your family; you could have lived. Was all of this--” he made an all-encompassing motion with his arm. “—worth it?”

I thought about what my family would say if they knew about Akiyama’s actions. Then I thought about Chiyo, Hiro and Eiji—kids, really—and the many others who came before them. The way Chiyo’s posture relaxed slightly whenever I came to visit. Hiro’s desperate attempts to be brave. The tentative trust in Eiji’s eyes when he looked at me.

“Every last bit,” I said steadily. Something like regret passed over Akiyama’s face for a fraction of a second. “I truly did enjoy your company these last few weeks. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it had to come down to this, Hisana-chan.”

_Are you going to let it end like this?_ A voice echoed in my head. A voice that up until now, I’d only heard in dreams, that I’d begun to hear less and less of recently. _Akiyama told you he made a promise. But so did you._ Miwa’s face flashed in my mind. _You promised her that you’d be back, didn’t you?_

Akiyama’s sword slashed down. At the same time, I rolled to the side, ignoring the _sharpflaring_ **agony** _ohgodithurts,_ and lashed out with one leg. He stumbled, not expecting my sudden movement. With one hand, I grabbed Tatsuya’s dagger and then lunged forward in a mad, desperate scramble. Akiyama fell backwards from the weight of my tackle, and the knife slid into his chest in one, smooth movement. Skin, muscle, organs…they all offered no more resistance than a slab of warm butter.

For a moment, we both stared down at the blade protruding from Akiyama’s body in shock. My hand, still clutching the hilt, was buried halfway in his torso. Blood—slick, warm and wet—trickled over my fingers.

Akiyama coughed slightly before staggering, dropping his sword and I automatically reached out to steady him in a parody of a lover’s embrace.

“Heh…looks like you win, Hisana-chan,” Akiyama smiled up at me, blood already staining his lips. We both knew the wound was fatal. He had minutes, at most.

“I…I can take away your pain,” I said numbly, still staring at my hands in incomprehension. Red…they were so red. Akiyama shook his head, something like fond exasperation entering his features for a moment.

“Far too easily and far too much, indeed,” he muttered, slumping to the floor. “I never could quite cure you of that, but…I suppose I never really wanted to.

“It’s your fault!” I said angrily, voice rough. My vision was beginning to blur. “Forcing me to spend time with you…and…and all the stupid…stupid comments! K-k-killing y-you was supposed to be easy! Y-you just t-tried to kill _me_! You weren’t supposed to make me c-care!”

“So you _do_ like me, darling.” He smiled weakly, reaching up with one hand to brush my hair out of my face. “I’m a lucky man, to have such a beautiful girl crying over me.” Blood was beginning to trickle down from the corners of his mouth now, and I caught his hand before it could fall down.

“Charming until t-the end, aren’t y-you?” I laughed brokenly. A drop of saltwater escaped my eye and I hastily rubbed it away. “I never wanted to kill you, you know. I hate you _so, so_ much, but I never wanted to be the one to kill you.”

“That’s what makes us different. I was…wrong. You’re nothing like me.” Akiyama’s breathing grew more labored and he squeezed my hand almost desperately. His eyes—still a striking gold even when clouded with pain and exhaustion—stared intently at my face, taking in my features hungrily. “The Angel of Inuzuri…it’s a fitting title,” he breathed out, before his eyelids drifted shut. For a moment, I just knelt there at Akiyama’s side, clutching his hand to my chest. Even now, I wasn’t sure what to label him. A monster? A man? A friend? A hollow, humorless laugh escaped my throat.

“No one mourns the wicked.” I said to myself, just a touch hysterically. “Except for me, it seems.” I looked down at Tatsuya’s dagger. How strange, that it played such a large role in the lives of two men who reminded me so much of each other. To be wielded by one and used to kill the other. I stared at it for another moment, before deciding to leave it there.

“Sorry, Tatsuya,” I murmured. “I think it’s about time I let go of you now.”

***

When I staggered into the room, I found Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro all awake. Hiro’s relieved expression when he saw me quickly morphed into one of concern.

“Hisana-san! What’s going on?” He glanced at my arm and something a lot like fury entered his eyes. “Who hurt you?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” I said wearily. I was lucky that Akiyama hadn’t broken my ribs completely—I really didn’t think I could deal with a punctured lung right now. Even so, every breath felt like someone was shoving a red hot poker through my lungs. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I’d just finished letting all three of them out of their restraints when I felt an unfamiliar presence behind me and stiffened. Seconds later, I felt the unforgiving bite of steel against my neck.

“Don’t move, or I slit your throat,” a cold voice demanded. In front of me, I could see comprehension entering Eiji’s eyes.

“Wait!” He shouted, struggling to move forward. “Don’t hurt her! She hasn’t done anything wrong!” I closed my eyes. It would be the height of irony if, after everything, I died at the hands of a shinigami _because_ I helped them.

“Maa, maa,” another voice said bemusedly. “You can remove your sword from her neck, Sasaki-chan. I recognize this one.”

“Shiba-fukutaicho!” Hiro said in surprise. “How…how did you find us?”

“That would be thanks to your friend, here.” I looked up to see the shinigami I’d handed my note to and an unfamiliar girl who was staring at me distrustfully. “She tipped me off about your location. I probably wouldn’t have found you three otherwise, your reiatsu levels are so low.” Eiji and Hiro stared at me with wide eyes.

“My thanks for that, by the way.” The dark haired shinigami turned to me, green eyes warm. “So you’re the healer they mentioned, huh? The one who can use healing kido? I’m Shiba Kaien, vice-captain of the 13th Division. Nice to meet you properly this time. You ran off before I could talk to you the first time I saw you.”

“I’m Yukimura Hisana,” I said. “Nice to see you finally showed up. I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost in the building.”

“Wait, wait, we’re really just going to let her go?” Sasaki interrupted, glaring at me harshly. “Shiba-dono, you _know_ what these monsters were getting up to! You saw the notes, their plans for what they were preparing to do! They killed _children!_ ”

“She’s the only reason we’re still alive right now!” Eiji snapped, staggering to his feet. “The only thing she’s done is keep us alive! She never participated in the experiments!”

“That you know of,” Sasaki sneered. “My, I never thought I’d see the day when someone of the esteemed Kuchiki clan would defend a commoner so readily. Especially an enemy of the Gotei 13, who’s already proven her relative skill. I guess it just goes to show that anyone can become susceptible to Stockholm syndrome.”

“Oh? So we’re going to reward someone who’s helped us by killing them? It’s a wonder we have any allies then.” Hiro growled. “It’s not like she _wanted_ to help them. They threatened her family.”

“Even if that were true, what’s to stop her from aiding another enemy? All they’d have to do is threaten her family again,” Sasaki argued. “She helped a mad scientist this time. What’s to stop her from helping another criminal again?”

 Meanwhile, Kaien was watching me steadily. One eyebrow quirked up, as if to ask _what are you going to do about it?_

“No, she’s got a point,” I spoke up quietly. Both Hiro and Eiji turned to face me, aghast.

“Hisana--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong--”

“I’m an outsider with high reiatsu and in-depth knowledge of how to control it. Furthermore, I’m an outsider who’s already shown that I’m willing to aid a hostile party if threatened. That makes me an attractive target to enemies of the Gotei 13, as well as a possible liability to the shinigami. Of course the Gotei 13 isn’t going to leave me alone after this. But if I become a shinigami, none of that is an issue, is it, Shiba-fukutaicho?” I asked, looking straight into sea-green eyes.

I was, as far as I knew, the only person who could heal using reiatsu outside of the Seireitei. It had been…naïve to believe that people would leave me alone forever, and sooner or later my family would get caught up in it. Becoming a shinigami wasn’t something I’d ever wanted to do but if it meant keeping my family from becoming a target, well…

“Shiba-dono,” Sasaki spoke up again, although she seemed more hesitant this time.

“Kuchiki-kun and Murakami-kun are correct. Yukimura did not work directly against any shinigami—we can hardly punish her for keeping our people alive, can we? It wouldn’t be fair, especially since she is also the reason we succeeded in our mission in the first place,” Kaien said mildly. He turned to me with a smile. “Welcome to the Gotei 13, Yukimura Hisana. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

***

As it turned out, there were two more shinigami waiting upstairs. This was a good thing, since Eiji collapsed about halfway up the stairs and Kaien was already carrying Chiyo. Hiro was reluctantly leaning on Sasaki and I was in no condition to help anyone.

“Hisana-san? Are you alright?” Eiji whispered to me. I tore my gaze away from where I could see Morita’s body, lying on the ground and squeezed my eyes shut. I would _not_ cry. I couldn’t afford have a breakdown right now.

“Let’s make our way out of here, shall we?” Kaien said, voice gentle. His eyes were understanding when they looked at me.

“It’s hard to hate people when they are kind to you,” I whispered. He ruffled my hair.

“And it’s okay to mourn him.” Kaien paused for a second. “I sent a message to the Seireitei. Another crew will be sent here to clean the area up.” Code for disposing of the bodies, I guess. “Was there anything else you needed, Yukimura?”

“Just one thing,” I said, gazing southward. “My family is in the 78th district of South Rukongai. Please allow me to say goodbye.” It was not a request. Behind me, Sasaki bristled.

“We don’t have time to go all the way out there!” She snarled. Kaien laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Maa, we would have had to stay a few more days anyway. The others aren’t fit for long-distance travel yet. We can find an inn and stay for the night, and I can take her to Inuzuri tomorrow. It’s only about two hours away with shunpo anyway.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. He winked at me. “It’s not like I could have talked you out of it. I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to find you sneaking out the window.”

***

Hiro, Eiji and Chiyo didn’t take the news of my departure well. Or rather, they didn’t take the news that they weren’t allowed to follow well.

“Idiot!” Sasaki hissed, whacking a scowling Hiro on the head. “You can’t even take walk across the room without collapsing, how do you expect to travel through ten districts? Kaien-dono can’t take both of you!”

“I’m fine! Hisana has a broken _arm. And_ two cracked ribs,” he protested. Chiyo didn’t say anything, merely clutched my sleeve tightly with one hand and refused to let go.

“I just want to meet your family, Hisana-san. You’ve told us so much about them that I’m curious,” Eiji sulked. I sighed at his pouting expression. Kuchiki dignity, my ass.

“It’s only for a few days, Eiji-kun. Then I’ll be back. I want to go home,” I finished quietly. He flinched at my last words.

“What if I get sick and die while you’re gone?” Hiro asked. I shot him an unimpressed look and he winced. Next to him, one of the other two shinigami Kaien had brought—I was pretty sure his name was Kawaguchi-- huffed up indignantly.

“I spent two decades in the Fourth Division! I assure you, I can treat you far better than _she_ can,” he said sounding offended. Eiji sent him a look of such deep disdain that he actually stepped back. I was strongly reminded of Byakuya and the _other_ reason I really didn’t want Eiji coming back with me. Just _thinking_ about how Rukia and Renji would react to meeting Eiji gave me a headache.

“You keep saying we’re not well enough to travel yet. But right now, your reiatsu levels are so low that you can’t even heal yourself completely,” he pointed out.

“There are some benefits to letting things heal naturally, you know,” I sniffed before my expression softened a fraction. “I’ll be fine, Eiji-kun. I kept the three of you alive for almost a month—I think I can keep myself alive for a couple days,” I pointed out dryly. “Just take care of each other, alright? Especially Chiyo-chan.” I looked down fondly at the girl currently sleeping in my lap.

“Of course,” Hiro scoffed. “As if you even needed to ask.” Eiji sighed and sat down next to me.

“Get some rest while you’re home, will you? And I want to see you gain some weight back.” His eyes lingered on my almost-skeletal wrists and I hastily pulled my sleeves down.

“This is nothing. I’ll recover in a couple weeks,” I said, refusing to look at him and ignoring Eiji’s frustrated sigh. As if he was any better, the hypocrite. “I’ll see you later, Eiji-kun. Shiba-fukutaicho, I’m ready to go when you are.”

He nodded, pale green eyes studying me intently. “You know, admitting you need help doesn’t mean you’re weak. No one can stand strong all the time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I do need help,” I agreed. “Are you ready to go?” He eyed me for another moment, before visibly relenting.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually gone that far in South Inuzuri,” Kaien mused, expression brightening. A mischievous grin lit his face and I took a wary step back. “Let me introduce you to this wonderful thing called hohou.”

“Wait…” I said, only now realizing that I had no idea exactly how Kaien was going to take me there. The next thing I knew, I was staring at the sky, one of his arms wrapped securely around my shoulders and the other supporting my knees. _“Shiba, don’t you dare--”_

He laughed, eyes bright with humor. “Too late. Hold on tight, this is going to be _fun.”_

***

Two hours later, I was about ready to throw up.

“ _Never again,”_ I vowed, staggering forward. “I don’t care if I have to _crawl,_ I am _never_ doing that again. Once was too many.”

“What’s wrong? Can’t take a little speed?” Kaien taunted. I kicked his shin and he hopped away with a curse. “Shut up, you bastard.” I’d seen shunpo before, of course, but experiencing it for myself… “I’m never learning that. I don’t want my gravestone to say ‘Here lies Yukimura Hisana. Died from learning shunpo after crashing headfirst into a tree.’”

“Hohou is one of the four basic Shinigami combat techniques,” he commented, sounding _incredibly_ amused. I glared darkly at him. “You’re going to have to learn it at some point.”

“I’ll make it work. Just you watch, I’ll show you—I’ll show everyone—that _that skill_ should be banned and erased from human memory. Even if I have to invent my own style of transportation, it’ll be _worth it.”_

“You’re overreacting,” he chuckled, before looking around. “Well, we’re here. So where do we go now?” We were on the outskirts of Inuzuri and I smiled softly. It really had been too long. I’d missed the sounds of people haggling for goods, the familiar smell of Ichiraku’s ramen, the sight of familiar buildings—

I stiffened, feeling two _very_ familiar reiatsu signatures heading towards me at top speed.

“Oh dear,” I muttered, bracing myself. Even now, still nauseous from two hours of insanely dizzying travel, I could sense them without even trying.

“What is it-?” Was all Kaien had time to get out before two blurs burst into sight. Another second and I was slammed into the ground.

“Nee-chan!” I gasped as my torso was squeezed painfully, taking a moment to thank whatever higher deity was up there that I’d had the foresight to wrap my ribs securely last night.

“Ow—ribs—arm,” I struggled to get out. In an instant, the weight on me was lifted. Rukia gaped at my body, how my right arm was in a sling, the bandages peeking through my shirt collar, the way my breathing was slightly labored. I’d really taught her too well. Renji’s face was slowly turning red.

“Nee-chan,” she whispered, looking horrified. “Oh my god…you…and then I just…” Meanwhile, Renji had whirled around to face Kaien.

“Did you do this to her?” He asked, voice uncharacteristically deadly. “Were you the one who hurt my sister?” Kaien looked slightly taken aback at the sheer fury suddenly saturating Renji’s reiatsu. One hand was already drifting towards his sword.

“Stop it, you guys. He did nothing,” I said, struggling to sit up. “Show some respect to Shiba-fukutaicho.” From the twin venomous looks Rukia and Renji simultaneously sent Kaien, my attempt at diffusing the situation backfired. Apparently after meeting Byakuya, the title ‘lieutenant’ meant nothing to either of them.

“What the hell happened?” Rukia shrieked at him, stomping forward. Kaien looked faintly bemused at being threatened by a short girl not even fully in her teens yet.

“Didn’t Miwa tell you?” I asked, walking over to Rukia and subtly grabbing her sword arm. Rukia glared at me, eyes watering at the corners. My stomach suddenly felt very heavy, as if I’d swallowed a stone.

“All I know is that Aoki-bastard sold you out to an outsider and then you went with him after he threatened Miwa and then by the time we found out, you were already _gone_ and I couldn’t sense you _anywhere_ no matter how hard I tried-”

”…and no one knew who took you, even though Kazuki-nii hasn’t slept like _at all_ these past few weeks trying to find out where you’d gone, and all of Inuzuri was freaking out and…and Miwa told us you promised you’d be back, but you were still _missing--”_

“I’m so sorry,” I said, voice a bit thick. Bending down, I wrapped my good arm around both of them in a tight hug, burying my face into Rukia’s hair. _She was here, she was_ safe…for the first time since Aoki’s betrayal I felt like I could breathe properly, cracked ribs notwithstanding. “But I kept my promise, yeah?”

“What _happened?”_ Rukia demanded. “You—you go missing for three weeks and you come back with a broken _arm_ and don’t think I haven’t noticed how your breathing is shallow.” My smile became strained.

“Ah. A client came to me, who required my medical expertise. Not too different from a normal job actually, but…things went a bit wrong.” More like they’d been screwed up beyond repair before I’d even started. Behind me, Kaien snorted.

“Bullshit. Don’t try to downplay this, Hisana-nee-san,” Renji growled.

“Your sister was kidnapped and blackmailed by a mad-scientist psychopath, who had captured and was experimenting on a group of shinigami. Her job was to keep them alive,” Kaien said bluntly. “She tipped me off when she happened to bump into me two days ago. They weren’t happy—thus, the injuries.”

“You—you--” I sputtered, speechless with rage. My left hand clenched into a fist. “They—they’re children! I can’t believe you--”

“Told them the truth? To be honest, it was beginning to get a bit painful watching you try to brush the entire thing off.”

“Didja kill them?” Renji asked quietly. I whirled around. Renji was staring unflinchingly at Kaien with hard eyes. Kaien offered a single nod and a flash of satisfaction crossed his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rukia relax.

“Come on, you need to come home. The others don’t know you’re back yet,” Rukia said tugging at my hand. Glancing at my face, she added, “Oi, Renji. Give her your sunglasses, or we’ll be swarmed in seconds.”

Renji nodded in understanding, and fished around in his pocket. “There. People’ll just think she’s a blind, injured girl. Combined with the cast, it’s perfect.”

“You guys are silly,” I sighed, but left the glasses on. Rukia took off her jacket and wrapped it around my head to hide my hair. “Lead the way,” I said, smiling slightly. Rukia giggled and tugged my hand forward.

***

“Hey guys! Guess who I found?” Rukia sang out, dragging me into the kitchen.

“Who is--” Was all Mitsuo got out before he caught sight of me. Beside him, Kaori dropped the pot she was holding. Miwa’s eyes widened and she swayed slightly, before steadying herself on the counter.

“Well,” a voice remarked from the living room. “I gotta say, you look like shit, Hisana.”

“Nice to see you again too, Kazuki.” My voice shook slightly, and I cleared my throat. Next to him, Kaori seemed to have recovered from her shock and stormed up to me with a murderous expression, drawing back one arm. I braced myself.

A light tap against my forehead made me peek open one eye and then I was having the life squeezed out of me for the second time that day. “ _Idiot,”_ she said, face buried in my shoulder and her voice thick. I swallowed, fighting against the stinging in my eyes. A second pair of arms enveloped me from the back as Mitsuo joined in the hug.

“Careful, she broke her ribs,” Rukia said in alarm.

“She can deal with it,” Kaori retorted, voice muffled. “After all the worry she put us through? She deserves it.” Despite her words, she adjusted her hold so that less pressure was put on my chest.

“Shishou,” Miwa spoke up quietly. I looked up to see her studying my face almost hungrily, wide brown eyes not looking away for a moment.

“Hey,” I said, stepping away and opening my arms. “I swore I’d be back, didn’t I?” She let out a sob and rushed forward.

“Ah…” Kaien said awkwardly from the doorway. I’d almost forgotten about him. “I’ll just come back later then, shall I? Yukimura, you have three days.” With that, he flash-stepped away. I looked back to find Rukia staring at me intently.

“Three days? What did he mean by that?” She demanded. I closed my eyes in resignation—I’d been hoping to put this conversation off a bit longer, but…

“The person who…hired me—Akiyama Daiki, the head of a minor yakuza family-- was someone who had taken an interest in how spirit energy worked. He’d captured multiple shinigami to…conduct some studies on them, but after the first few died, he wanted to find a way to keep them around for a longer period of time.” My voice was clinical. Detached. “That’s where I came in.”

Horrified comprehension was settling in Miwa’s eyes. She, more than anyone, understood just how my healing worked.

“About two days ago, I ran into a shinigami—Shiba-fukutaicho—at the marketplace. It was sheer luck, really. I managed to slip him a note detailing what was going on. That night, a team of shinigami invaded the base where we were staying. I got into an altercation with my employer once he found out what I’d done. That’s where I got my injuries from,” I continued, staring at a stain on the wall. It felt like I was hearing my own words from a long distance away. I felt almost numb. Like what I was describing had happened to someone else.

“However, even though I had not…technically worked against the Gotei 13, I found myself in a difficult situation. My skills were attracting too much attention.” I smiled wanly. “My knowledge could become a possible threat to the Gotei 13 in the future, if something wasn’t done.”

Never let it be said that any member of my family was slow on the uptake.

“Hisana, you--” For once, Kazuki was speechless.

“Shiba-fukutaicho has kindly agreed to arrange my entrance into the Shin’ou Academy. I will be taking the entrance exam in three weeks,” I said, voice even. From what I had gleaned from Kaien, the curriculum was taught over six years. Each year was divided into a spring/summer (the end of March through August) and a fall/winter semester (the end of September through February), with an entrance exam offered at the start of each term.

“So soon?” Miwa spoke up, visibly dismayed.

“They don’t want to chance something like what happened with Akiyama occurring again. Staying here another six months would be risky.” I didn’t tell them the other reason I was leaving so soon. The thing was, part of my value as a healer was due to my skill, yes. But the other reason I was so valuable was because I was willing to treat anyone, so long as they didn’t harm my family. And to do that, a certain level of trust between my patients and myself was required. After Aoki’s betrayal…I didn’t think I’d be able to attain that same level of trust ever again.

“It’s not fair!” Renji burst out, just as I made a mental note to myself to speak to Kazuki and Mitsuo about taking steps to provide Miwa with adequate protection after I left. “That you have to become a shinigami. You’ve never wanted this!”

“I may have never wanted this for myself, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t prepared for the possibility. I’ve always known that I might have to join the Gotei 13 someday,” I said tiredly. Renji opened his mouth to protest but Mitsuo laid a hand on his shoulder, quieting him.

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” He asked seriously. My smile turned a bit bitter.

“I started learning healing kido as a way to help this family. When I decided to offer my skills to the public, that goal hadn’t changed,” I said, shaking my head. “Now though, all it’s doing is attracting attention here that I don’t want. My skill set is too…unique. My reputation has spread too far for me to do anything about it, but…Miwa, it’s not too late for you. As far as the outside world knows, you’ve never learned healing kido from me. I’ve never had you treat a patient with it, and it will stay that way, understood?”

“Yes, Shishou,” she agreed, eyes sharp. “My reiatsu levels were too low for you to teach me anything effective. Instead, you focused on teaching me general remedies and the properties of different herbs. In fact, my skills never progressed beyond being your assistant.” I relaxed slightly.

“Good girl,” I murmured.

“Well then,” Kazuki stated, standing up. “If we only have three days before you have to leave, we’re going to make the most of it. First things first—let’s get some food into you. Damn it, you look like you’ve lost fifteen pounds since I last saw you, and you were thin enough then! Then, I’m going to let the rest of Inuzuri know that you’re back so people can stop knocking on our door twenty times a day. After that, I’m going to track down that shinigami who brought you back and I’m going to let him know that if he lets anything happen to you on your way to the Seireitei, I’m going to dump a bottle of sake on him and set him on fire,” he finished cheerfully.

“I’ll help you with that,” Rukia said, standing up and exiting the room. “I gotta do something first, though.”

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked worried. “She’s being unusually quiet.”

“Nah, she’s fine,” Renji said dismissively. “I’m pretty sure I know what she’s up to.” With that, he got up too and followed her.

“You know, I expected a lot more protesting from both of them.” I hadn’t expected either of them to take the news so well, especially after seeing how worried they’d been about my recent absence. Maybe they were calmer because this time, they knew where I’d be going? Kaori snorted.

“And that should be a warning sign. But if you’re too dumb to figure it out for yourself, I’m not going to tell you. Someone needs to keep an eye on you anyway.”

***

“What do you guys think you’re doing?” I gaped. Clothes were strewn everywhere—across the bed, on the floor…pretty much everywhere but the closet and drawers, which was where they _should’ve_ been. Rukia was standing over a half-filled knapsack scowling at Renji with her arms crossed.

“You moron! Stop taking up so much space! Who the hell needs this many jackets, anyway?”

“Shut up! At least jackets are practical! You’d just stuff that giant Chappy stuffed animal of yours in here.”

“Kids,” I interrupted. “Care to explain what you’re doing?” Rukia raised an eyebrow at me.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re going with you,” she said, tone implying that I should have known this already.

“Yeah. It’s not like we weren’t planning on heading off in a couple of years anyway. Going a bit early won’t hurt,” Renji added. “All we have to do is pass the entrance test thingy and we can start school with you!” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Don’t even try telling us that we’re too young, nee-chan. You’re only like, ten years older than me and there’s no age requirement anyway.” Rukia said stubbornly. “And if we can’t even pass the _entrance test,_ then Oni-sensei is more useless than I’d thought.” Of course. When in doubt, blame Byakuya.

“You…you’re not even properly in your _teens_ yet!” I huffed out frustrated. The details of how-things-originally-should-have-gone were becoming fuzzy, but I was fairly sure Rukia and Renji weren’t supposed to enter the academy for another couple of decades. “Your reiatsu levels, while high for your age, aren’t anywhere close to being developed. Some of the students there will be _hundreds_ of years old. I don’t have much of a choice, but you should at least wait until you’re a century old before applying!” I ran a hand through my hair distractedly. “What about Miwa? Kaori, Kazuki and Mitsuo? Once you become a shinigami, _that’s it._ There’s no going back. Just…I want you to enjoy being on your own for a while longer,” I finished pleadingly. “Adulthood lasts for eternity and I don’t want you to have to grow up quicker because of me.”

“I don’t care about being a kid and all that crap. I just don’t want to be away from you again!” Rukia blurted out. “You _just got back_ and now you’re telling me you have to go away again?! Three weeks was bad enough! How am I supposed to deal with months, or even years? I get that you can’t help leaving this time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow!”

“I’m not asking you to stay away forever,” I said softly, pulling her into a hug. “God knows I’d miss you too much for that. Just…appreciate what you have for a bit longer? Once you become a shinigami, you’ll have all the time in the world to spend with me. But you won’t be able come back here as often.”

I already knew that the others wouldn’t move to a closer district. Inuzuri, for all its faults, was home. It was where Mitsuo had his dojo and his students. Where Kaori had grown up with nothing, lacking memories, possessions, even a last name, but had succeeded in carving out a place for herself anyway. Where Kazuki had grown from a conman, a thug, to running his own bar. Where Miwa had first learned that she had a future worth living for. They all had their own lives here. I’d never ask any of them to give that up.

“Fine. But I won’t wait for long,” she said, eyes red. “As soon as fall comes around, I’m heading to the Seireitei, taking that test, and you can’t stop me. I love Mitsuo-nii, Kazuki-nii and Kaori-nee and Miwa is awesome, but this place isn’t home if you aren’t here.”

“I know,” I whispered. Despite how attached I’d become to Inuzuri and its residents, I wasn’t like the others. Home, to me, would always be where Rukia was.

Glancing over Rukia’s head, I made eye contact with Renji. His gaze was steady, confident. An understanding—that no matter what, Renji would go wherever Rukia went—passed between us in that moment and I relaxed.

“It’s so cool, though. Like you’re going to get to school and learn so much! I wonder what the lessons are like?” Rukia asked dreamily. I grimaced. Wonderful. After over seventy years and dying twice, I now had to _take classes_ all over again. Honestly, I’d had enough of school my first lifetime. Twelve years of public school, four years of university, four years of medical school, another five years of residency…and now I was about to start another six years of education.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” I muttered darkly.

***

“Can’t sleep?” I looked up from my cup of sake to see Mitsuo taking a seat across from me.

“No. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I admitted. “A lot has happened these past few weeks.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve finally convinced the kids to stay here for a bit longer,” he commented.

“They shouldn’t have to leave early because of me,” I muttered.

“You’re more than just a sister to Rukia, you know. She may love the rest of us, but you’re also the closest thing she has to a mother. When she heard you were going to leave…well, what did you expect? Of course she wanted to go with you.” Mitsuo was silent for a moment. “She hasn’t been sleeping well, ever since you went missing. Tonight’s the first night she’s managed to go to bed for more than a few hours. You should be sleeping too; you still look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks,” I muttered dryly before running a hand through my hair in frustration. “It’s just…I can’t stop thinking about something Akiyama said. He told me that I was responsible for the deaths of fifty one people that night. And he was right…out of everyone who’d been a part of that project, I was the only one who survived,” I said softly, downing the cup of sake in front of me.

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Hisana,” Mitsuo said intently.

“I know. And I don’t. I knew what I was doing when I handed Shiba that note, and I don’t regret it. It came down to a choice, and I did what I had to do.” I poured myself another glass. “But that night was the only time I ever killed someone that I _knew._ Someone with a name and a face. Akiyama actually reminded me a bit of Tatsuya, you know. Not his actions, of course, but his personality. He was…charming, when he wanted to be. Incredibly charismatic. The type of person you couldn’t help but like a bit.”

“I’ve noticed that you don’t have Tatsuya’s dagger anymore,” Mitsuo said quietly.

“I figured that I’m carrying around enough guilt without purposefully adding another reminder,” I laughed hollowly. “I hated Akiyama for what he made me do. For what he himself did to the prisoners, and to uncountable others. I’ll never be able to forgive him for that. But at the same time, a part of me saw him as a friend of sorts. Someone I genuinely got along well with, whenever I managed to forget just what he was doing. And…awful as it sounds, I never really wanted him to _die_.” My voice cracked towards the end and I refused to look up.

“Oh, Hisana,” Mitsuo sighed, pulling me forward into a hug. My breath came out a bit shakily and I clutched desperately at his shirt.

 “The things he did…oh god, you can’t even imagine. _Every day_ it’d be a new form of torture, a new experimental drug, and I’d have to paste a smile to my face and heal them _knowing_ that they’d just be cut open again the next day. And I’d always have to keep calm, because those kids were _relying_ on me and I was their only source of kindness those few weeks, the only thing keeping them sane and if I broke down, what would happen to them? And every night I’d have to eat dinner with him and I’d have to pretend that nothing was wrong, because if I didn’t _entertain_ him enough he’d take it out on the prisoners. I couldn’t do _anything_ to help them because then he might send people after you guys and bringing the subject up always made him angry. And I can’t…I just can’t do that again. Using my healing kido, something meant to _help_ that way…it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. An abomination.” Mitsuo’s arms tightened around me and I took a shuddering breath.

“The worst part though,” I ranted hysterically, “The _absolute worst part_ is that even after all that, I still couldn’t just hate him like any normal person would! Like any _sane_ person would! Even after he tried to kill me, because the way he talked sometimes, it was like speaking to Tatsuya all over again, and I could see some of myself in him too. And there was this other guy, Morita, who was always kind to me…how do you hate people who are kind to you?”

“Listen to me, Hisana,” Mitsuo grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look up into his face. “ _You’re only human._ You were caught up in an awful situation and you made the best of it. No one can ask you for more.”

“I felt so out of control,” I whispered. “There wasn’t _anything_ I could do. I…I never want to feel that helpless again.”

“And you’re not,” Mitsuo stated firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But Hisana…even you can’t be strong all the time. What you faced…it’s over. You can let go now.” He wrapped his arms around my shaking shoulders.

_Just this once,_ I thought, burying my face in Mitsuo’s chest. Mitsuo didn’t say anything as my tears began to soak through his shirt, merely adjusted his hold so that I was in a more comfortable position. _Just for tonight, I’ll allow myself to cry._  

 

Later that night, I felt a warm body burrow under the covers by my side. I didn’t say anything, merely shifted so that I clutched Rukia tightly to me. For the first time in weeks, I slept without nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

“Hiding away from your fans?” I whirled around to find Reiko leaning against the wall behind me. “Not that I blame you, Sensei. It seems like all of Inuzuri turned up for your going-away party.”

“I’m not _hiding,”_ I stated indignantly. “I’m just…taking a break, that’s all.”  I had no idea how Kazuki and Kaori had arranged things on such short notice, but _thousands_ of people had showed up. After talking to several hundred people, accepting their thanks/relief that I was alright/congratulations on my impending entrance into the Seireitei/etc., I was ready to drop into bed and forget about the world. The worst were the tearful goodbyes. The reminder that these people had grown to care for me beyond the skills I could provide—that even though Miwa could continue my work to an extent, they would still miss me.

“I’m glad that I got to talk to you, though. I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance to.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m happy for you, you know. I’m not gonna lie, you being gone is going to be tough on a lot of people, including me.” I looked away. “But if anyone deserves to get a chance at a better life, it’s you. Stop blaming yourself; I know that you feel like you have some sort of obligation here, but we were fine before you came along. We’ll survive without you.”

“I know that. I…I just wish I didn’t feel like I was abandoning everyone,” I answered, looking down. A sharp knock on my head made me wince.

“You’re not abandoning anyone. You’re doing what’s best for you and your family. No one can fault you for that,” Reiko said sternly. “You don’t _owe_ anyone anything. You’ve done more for us than anyone else. That being said, if you’re going to leave us to become a shinigami, then you’d better become a _damn_ fine one, you hear? I want to be able to tell future generations that one of the best healers in the Seireitei came from the 78th district of South Rukongai.”

I choked out a laugh. “Of course. You didn’t even have to ask.”

Reiko suddenly pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m really gonna miss you, Sensei, and I speak for everyone when I say that. Don’t forget to visit, you hear? No matter how great and powerful and rich I’m sure you’re going to become, don’t forget about us, yeah?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never forget where I came from. Inuzuri made me who I am today, and I’m…I’m proud of that,” I said softly, leaning against Reiko’s chest. “I’ll visit as often as I can. Not just for Rukia and the others, but for you guys too.”

“Glad to hear that, Sensei.” Reiko stepped back and I politely pretended not to notice the way she quickly wiped at her eyes with one hand. “Now, enough sappy shit—let’s make the most of your time left. There’s, like, _so_ much free food around; it’d be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

***

It was nearing 11 o’clock at night when the party finally ended. I came home to find Rukia sitting in front of Kaien, sketchbook out, and speaking with an uncharacteristically deadly tone of voice.

“…and that’s what’ll happen if you let anything happen to my sister. Got it?” Rukia asked, jabbing a finger at her drawing.

“You were very clear,” Kaien answered, before squinting at the picture. “…just one question. Is that some kind of beaver? It’s ugly as hell.”

“It’s obviously a rabbit, you moron! Are you blind?” Rukia yelled. I hastily plucked the book out of her hands just as Rukia looked about to whack Kaien on the head with it.

“Rukia, isn’t it almost your bedtime?” I asked. She scowled. “I was waiting for you to get back. Plus, this guy showed up around nine and Kaori-nee-san told me to keep an eye on him. You’re sure you can trust him? He seems pretty sketchy. I mean, anyone who can’t appreciate fine art can’t be too reliable.”

“The hell kind of logic is that?” Kaien asked indignantly. “And I can too appreciate fine art! Don’t blame me just because your artistic skills suck! My baby brother can draw better than you!”

I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “And here we have a shining example of a centuries-old shinigami lieutenant, ladies and gentlemen,” I said sarcastically. “Note the high levels of maturity, people. I’m impressed. Really.”

“Maa, sorry about that,” Kaien said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “The way Rukia-chan talks to me reminds me of my little sister a bit. I guess I just responded instinctively.”

“I…I remind you of your sister?” Rukia looked horrified. “I’m similar to someone you’re _related_ to?”

“Yes, Kukaku likes to yell abuse at me too,” Kaien agreed. Rukia relaxed and I rolled my eyes.

“Stop it, you two. Shiba-fukutaicho, was there something you needed?”

“Just wanted to ask if leaving at noon tomorrow was acceptable for you. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you seemed to be busy,” he said casually. Rukia stiffened and drew closer to me. I nodded, making an effort to keep my face blank. “That is fine. Anything else?”

“Nope!” He sat up cheerfully and ruffled Rukia’s hair, ignoring her glare expertly. “See you tomorrow then, Yukimura!”

Rukia waited until he was gone before speaking up in a small voice. “I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “It doesn’t seem quite real.”

“Oni-sensei is gonna have a heart attack,” Rukia said smiling faintly. I winced. Yeah, that was one explanation I wasn’t looking forward to. It was almost ironic how I’d always assumed that if I ever did go to the Seireitei, it would be for Rukia, Renji or Byakuya. Instead, I only had myself to blame for this.

“You promise that you’re going to come get me though? In the fall?” Rukia asked looking at me intently. “That’s our deal, right?”

“I still wish that you’d wait a bit longer. You’re still so young…” I murmured, lacing my fingers through Rukia’s. Her hands were so much smaller than mine.

“Promise me,” Rukia said firmly, ignoring my response. I sighed, suddenly feeling about five decades older.

“As you wish.”

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kaien said flatly, staring at the two huge duffel bags (kindly donated at yesterday’s party) sitting in front of the doorway.

“Nope!” I said cheerfully. “Honestly, what did you expect? That I’d only need to pack up two shirts and a pair of pants?” Inwardly, I resisted the urge to cackle. See if he could shunpo carrying two large bags _and_ me.

“Each one of those bags is half your size! What do you need so much stuff for?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, shinigami-san, Hisana did receive a couple hundred gifts yesterday. Be grateful that she only packed this many of them,” Kaori said smirking.

“Yeah, it could have been so much worse. She only packed like four books too,” Renji added. “I thought she would have packed at least eight, but the rest didn’t fit.”

“And she can’t go off to the Seireitei without proper clothes!” Miwa said, hands on her hips. “Do you expect my Shishou to leave with only a few sets of clothes to wear?”

“Not to mention blankets for winter,” Mitsuo agreed. “It would be awful if she caught a cold just because she wasn’t warm enough. Plus enough snacks to make sure she doesn’t get hungry along the way. Which she had better finish,” he added, looking pointedly at me. “You’re little more than skin and bones right now, Hisana.”

“Oh, and I got her a few new blades to replace her old one. A couple throwing knives and another tanto. The quality isn’t quite as good as her old one, but it’s the best I could get on such short notice,” Kazuki stated. “What, did you expect me to let her go off without even a weapon to defend herself with?”

At that moment, Rukia ran out of the house carrying a familiar rabbit stuffed animal, worn ragged from use and age.

“Nee-chan, you can’t forget this!” She exclaimed. My breath caught.

“Rukia, that’s…yours,” I spoke haltingly. It had been a combined gift from Tatsuya and I on her fifteenth birthday—her last birthday with Tatsuya and Horio, actually. It had been sewn back together at least three different times, and Rukia treated it like it was more precious than gold. She beamed up at me, smiling so wide her eyes squinted. I wasn’t fooled—she only smiled that way when she was trying to hide tears.

“I…I wanted to give you something to remember me by, nee-chan. And besides, I’m a big girl now! I don’t need Chappy anymore. So here.” She thrust the bunny into my arms. “Just…just in case you get sad or lonely, Chappy’ll cheer you up, yeah?”

I blinked, suddenly swallowing back tears. “I’ll hold onto it for you. Then when you and Renji join me in the Seireitei, I’ll give it back to you. Deal?”

“It’s a promise,” Rukia said solemnly. A light tap on my back turned my attention to Miwa and Renji.

“I was originally planning on giving you this for your birthday, but…here.” Miwa said, handing me what looked like a square of cloth. “Reiko-san and the others helped me make it. It was supposed to be a scarf—I didn’t manage to finish it—but it can still work as a handkerchief!” It was made out of soft, blue cotton with a few flowers stitched sloppily on and a bird in one corner.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful, Miwa,” I said softly, placing it inside my shirt, against my chest. She blushed slightly, looking down.

“I won’t be around so I’m trusting you to take care of things, ok?” Miwa nodded firmly and I smiled, tucking one strand of hair behind her cheek. “And Miwa? I just wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you. You’ve grown so much…I couldn’t have asked for a better apprentice.”

“Shishou…” she said, eyes wide. Then her face hardened with resolve. “I won’t let you down.”

“Oi, my turn,” Renji said gruffly. He thrust out what looked like a small pineapple plush key chain at me. It was slightly lopsided. “There. It’s for good luck. ‘Cause you’re really bad at staying outta trouble, Hisana-nee-san.” I put a hand up to my mouth to hide my smile. Honestly, he was just too adorable at times.

“Thanks, Renji. It’s perfect,” I said sincerely. He blushed to the roots of his hair and shifted awkwardly. “Whatever,” he muttered, looking away. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one awkward about emotional confrontations at times.

I paused as I turned to Mitsuo, Kazuki and Kaori. These three…they’d been with me almost since the beginning. They’d helped me raise Rukia, had taught me how to survive, how to fight. I owed them more than words could convey...not that I could think of any at the moment. My mouth suddenly felt dry.

As always, Kazuki could be counted on to break the silence. “I’m gonna miss you, brat. Try not to get yourself killed—I’d hate to have to figure out some way of summoning you back from the dead just so I can have Kaori yell at you,” he said, thumping me on the back.

“Don’t even joke about that, moron!” Kaori snapped, whacking him on the back of the head. Turning to me, she added, “But seriously, don’t get yourself killed. As far as sisters go, you’d be irritatingly hard to replace.” I rolled my eyes, unable to keep from smiling.

“Thanks guys. Love you too. The same goes for you two—Kaori, please keep Kazuki from dying of alcohol poisoning someday. I know how dumb he can get when challenged…better yet, keep him away from any drinking contests altogether. Kazuki, please keep Kaori from exploding every time she has to deal with a stupid client. Continual high blood pressure can’t be good for her.” Kazuki grinned, flashing me a thumbs up while Kaori sighed exasperatedly. Her hand drifted down to Kazuki’s though, linking their fingers together, and for the first time today, I felt contentment rise up in me. Yeah, they’d be okay.

“I cannot believe that you’re leaving me to deal with those two by myself,” Mitsuo commented, pulling me lightly into a hug. I looked up questioningly as I felt him slip a small bag into my yukata. “Just a little money as a final farewell gift. All of Inuzuri contributed; it adds up to 200,000 kan. The rest of it is spread out in the bags,” he whispered. My eyes went wide and he shushed me before I could protest. “It’s too late to give it back now. Kaori made sure of that, so just accept it,” Mitsuo said smiling.

“Mitsuo…I…” I began, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know what to do now,” I confessed. It was all starting to hit me—I’d be leaving behind everything I’d ever known. I wouldn’t have my family constantly at my back supporting me anymore. It felt a bit like going away to college again…only a thousand times worse.

“You’re going to do what you’ve always done. You’ll make the best of the situation, kick some ass, and demand everyone’s respect while doing it. Because that’s the kind of person you’ve always been,” he answered.

“Thanks, Mitsuo,” I said, relaxing slightly. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” he said, squeezing me tightly before letting go. “And just remember…we may not be related by blood, but you’re the best sister anyone could ask for.”

“You ready to go, Yukimura?” Kaien asked, grabbing one of the bags. Renji grabbed the other. “Rukia and I’ll walk you to the edge of Inuzuri,” he said firmly. The normally ten minute walk took half an hour, as I kept getting stopped by various members of Inuzuri. Just as we reached the edge of the district, I paused, turning to Rukia and Renji.

“You’ll look after each other for me?” I asked. Renji scoffed.

“Of course, Hisana-nee-san. Stop worrying ‘bout us. Just make sure you take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, Renji and I’ll be fine. You’ve protected us enough. It’s time for you to protect yourself too,” Rukia added. I pulled them both into a tight hug.

“I feel like you kids are growing up so fast,” I murmured. “When did you get so smart?”

“We learned from the best,” Rukia said cheekily before turning serious. “I love you, nee-chan, and I know that you’re gonna be an awesome soul reaper. Because soul reapers protect people and you’ve never failed in doing that.”

“You’re my sister. And Renji might as well be my little brother. Of course I’ve always done my best to protect you; it’s what people do for the ones they love,” I replied. 

“And someday we’ll be able to protect you too. We’ll keep training every day, Hisana-nee-san. The next time you see us we’ll be strong enough to join you in the Seireitei. I don’t care if the other students are nobles or if they’re older than us; we’ll kick ass,” Renji promised. “We’ll take the Academy by storm.”

“I look forward to it,” I said smiling. I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about them, but someday…someday these two would be magnificent.

***

“Six days. We were gone for _six days,_ and you guys somehow broke half the inn?!” Kaien yelled at the six abashed shinigami in front of him. _Well, there goes our damage deposit,_ I thought wryly. It was probably only the fact that most civilians were too intimidated to talk back to shinigami that the others hadn’t been thrown out into the street.

“I wouldn’t say it was _half_ the inn, Shiba-dono. Just a wall or two, and a table. It was merely a…misunderstanding. I believe Murakami-san and Kuchiki-san overreacted when Kawaguchi-san attempted to treat Murakami Chiyo,” Sasaki stated stiffly. Next to her, Arata-something—the other shinigami from Squad 13—shifted uncomfortably.

I felt Kaien’s reiatsu swirl dangerously and I cursed Sasaki for being such an idiot. Who the fuck talked back to a superior officer when said officer was already annoyed? It probably didn’t help that he was already grumpy from me making him carry all my bags due to ‘health reasons.’ I planned on milking my broken arm for as long as I could; it didn’t matter that it had already healed. _Kaien_ didn’t know that.  

A soft gasp from behind me interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see Chiyo duck behind me and clutch my arm with widened eyes, and the last thread of my patience snapped. God help me, Chiyo had only _just_ started talking again; I wasn’t going to let Kaien undo all of her process in the course of a ten minute dressing-down. Grabbing Chiyo’s hand, I started heading for the door.

“And where do you think you’re going, Yukimura?” Kaien barked. I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

“You’re disciplining your subordinates for having no concept of collateral damage, yes? By all means, continue to do so. However, as neither Chiyo-chan nor I were in any way involved, we will be making our way to the nearest ice-cream stall until you get this all sorted out. Do you have any objections, Shiba-fukutaicho?” I asked coolly. Kaien took in Chiyo’s pale face and shaking figure, and his eyes widened, remorse flashing through them.

“I—of course not, Yukimura. You may go,” he said, waving me off.

“Thank you,” I said, dipping into a curt bow and stalking off.

 

“So what kind of ice-cream would you like?” I asked Chiyo fifteen minutes later. I’d finally gotten her to relax somewhat after what seemed like an eternity of prattling on about random topics, ranging from whether she preferred cats or dogs (cats, definitely) to her favorite type of flower (chrysanthemums) to what kind of superpower she wished she could have (invisibility).

Chiyo’s eyes widened and she began to protest, waving her arms. “I-you don’t have to pay for me, Hisana-sama! I’m fine, really!”

“Don’t be silly, Chiyo-chan. Besides, what have I told you about referring to me as –sama? It makes me sound so…boring and stuffy. And _old._ ” I wrinkled my nose and Chiyo giggled.

“No one could think of you as boring _or_ old. You look the same age as me!” She exclaimed. My brow furrowed slightly. Right. After arriving in the Rukongai, no one had ever treated me like a child. I sometimes…forgot that to other people, I looked like someone in my late teens, at most.

“Uh-huh. And you wouldn’t want people to address you by –sama, would you? If you have to, call me Sensei, but nothing like –sama or –dono. Those titles are reserved for sour grumpygamis like Shiba-fukutaicho.” Chiyo gasped, looking scandalized.

“I-I can’t believe you just called Shiba-fukutaicho a ‘grumpygami,’” she whispered, looking around as if afraid that Kaien would pop up behind her.

“He deserves it,” I muttered. “But really Chiyo-chan, pick a flavor. I’m planning on getting two ice-cream cones anyway and if you don’t pick one, I’ll have to eat them both by myself. People will judge me and I will end up being really sad, pathetic and fat and eventually I will swell up like a balloon. Then no one will want to date me and I will end up alone for all of eternity, except for maybe a couple dozen cats and--”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get one!” Chiyo laughed at my over-exaggerated tale of woe. I mentally patted myself on the back. “I’ll get strawberry, I guess.”         

“I knew I could count on you, Chiyo-san. By eating that second ice-cream cone for me, you have saved me from a life of obesity and many related health problems. Truly, you are a wonderful friend,” I sighed dramatically.

“I think growing fat is the last thing you have to worry about, Hisana-sensei.”

I shrugged, signaling for the vendor to hand me one cone with strawberry ice cream and one with vanilla. “You never know.”

“I didn’t think vanilla would be your favorite flavor, Hisana-sensei,” Chiyo remarked a few minutes later. I glanced at her, amused. “What did you peg me as, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe chocolate?” She asked thoughtfully.

“I do love chocolate,” I admitted. “But I prefer vanilla better. Because it’s such a blank slate, you know? It’s the _classic_ ice cream flavor and it goes with _everything._ If I want something with chocolate, I just need to add some chocolate sauce to it, or some chocolate chunks and the vanilla balances it out wonderfully. If I want something fruity and refreshing, I can just add in some strawberries, peaches, or whatever fruit I’m in the mood for. And vanilla by itself is awesome too; some may call it bland, but I kind of like that about it. Subtly fragrant, sweet but not overwhelmingly so…it’s the ultimate comfort food.”

“Wow. When you said you were going to get ice-cream, I didn’t expect to come here and find you discussing the psychology behind various _flavors,”_ Kaien remarked from behind me. Chiyo flinched wildly at his sudden appearance, the color draining from her cheeks.

“S-Shi-Shiba-fukutaicho,” she stuttered, voice nearly inaudible. Something like sadness crossed over Kaien’s features. I ignored him and pulled Chiyo close, sending a wave of soothing reiatsu into her body. She relaxed and leaned into my touch.

“Come on, let’s go,” Kaien said softly. None of us said anything more as we made our way back to the inn.

***

The sound of a strangled scream woke me up. I jumped out of bed to find Chiyo thrashing wildly, struggling against Sasaki who was trying to calm her down. The door opened and Kaien, Kawaguchi, Eiji and Hiro rushed in. Chiyo instantly pushed herself to the corner of the bed, as far from the door as possible.

“Let go of her!” I snapped at Sasaki, rushing over to Chiyo’s side. “Okay, I want everyone but me, Eiji and Hiro out of this room! Stat!” Not waiting to see if they obeyed my orders, I turned to Chiyo.

“Hey, Chiyo-chan, it’s me, Hisana. I want you to focus on me, okay? Focus on my voice, that’s it. You’re not in that room anymore, you’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here. I want you to take deep breaths, can you do that?” Chiyo shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Grabbing her hand, I placed it against my chest.

“Okay, let’s do it together then. In, out. In, and out. Focus on my breathing—when I take in a breath, you take one too, alright? Deep breath in, gentle breath out, that’s it. You’re doing great.” I sent a steady stream of calming reiatsu into her body, relaxing her muscles and soothing her lungs. It was initially a technique I’d come up with to calm Rukia whenever she had a nightmare…I’d never imagined that I would become so proficient at it over the past few weeks. After a few minutes, Chiyo’s breathing evened out and she rested her head against my chest. Her body was still trembling.

“Are you okay now?” I asked quietly. She nodded tiredly.

“Yeah, I…I think I’m fine. Just, can you sleep with me tonight?”

“Of course. If you think it’ll help.” I looked up to see Hiro and Eiji staring at the futon longingly. Judging by Hiro’s red eyes and the dark bags under Eiji’s, neither of them had gotten much sleep either. “You guys can stay too, if you want. There’s an extra mattress right over there.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t do that. It’s not-”

“I swear to god Eiji, if the next word out of your mouth is ‘proper’ I will throw my pillow at you. You guys don’t feel comfortable being away from her, yes? Then fuck being proper and go sleep on the damn bed. It is two in the morning and I do not have the energy to deal with this.” Raising my voice, I called out, “Shiba-fukutaicho, we’re having a sleepover here. Oh, and Sasaki-san, you’re kicked out. Anyone who has a problem with this is getting a glass of ice-cold water dumped on them. Doctor’s orders. Chop, chop.” I took the lack of argument as an agreement.

“You know, you’re kind of scary when you get into healer-mode. In a good way,” I heard Hiro mumble from the other side of the room once things had quieted down again.

“Good. Then I’m doing something right.”

***

“It’s not just you, you know,” I stated early the next morning. Kaien was lying on a futon, facing the ceiling. At my approach, he sat up and motioned for me to sit beside him.

“What isn’t just me?” He asked.

“Chiyo’s reactions. I just wanted you to know that she doesn’t…doesn’t act like that around you specifically,” I clarified. Kaien’s expression warmed a few degrees.

“I already guessed, but thanks for trying to reassure me, Yukimura.” He was silent for a moment. “I heard from Murakami-kun and Kuchiki-kun what happened at the other inn. Apparently Murakami-chan had a panic attack when Kawaguchi-san tried to get close to treat her. One of her wounds had opened and he tried to sedate her with Arata’s and Sasaki’s help. Her cousin and Kuchiki-kun reacted…less than positively.” Kaien turned to face me. “I don’t blame them. After what they went through, it’s understandable that they wouldn’t feel comfortable around others.”

“You’re not…upset that they feel more comfortable around me?” I asked hesitantly. Kaien snorted.

“Of course not. I’d be surprised if they didn’t. It’s…regrettable that they feel so cautious around me, certainly. I am their commanding officer; they should never have to fear me.” His voice turned bitter for a moment. “However, despite being in the same squad, we’ve only spoken to each other a handful of times. I’m passing acquaintances with them at best. You though, from what I understand you were their only source of kindness for almost a month. They know that you risked everything to save them. Of course they’d latch on to you.”

“They’re good kids,” I said softly. “They didn’t deserve to die that way.”

“And it’s thanks to you that they didn’t,” Kaien said, clasping me on the shoulder. He paused for a moment before adding hesitantly, “I’m glad Akiyama chose to recruit you, of all people.”

Kaien’s grip tightened as I stiffened, preventing me from pulling away. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to imply that I wanted you to suffer the hardships you did; I merely meant to say that if he’d chosen anyone else, things would have been very different. If you hadn’t been there…I can’t imagine a single outcome that wouldn’t have ended in tragedy.” Kaien turned me to face him, eyes sincere in their gratitude. “You’ve done so much for those kids—for Squad 13—but we haven’t done anything to repay you. If there’s something—anything—I can do to make your transition to the Seireitei easier, you need only ask.”

“Thank you,” I said. A favor coming from Shiba Kaien, head of one of the five main noble clans and a vice-captain to boot…well, it wasn’t to be taken lightly. Not that I thought I’d ever use it; Kaien had been the one to do most of the work—if anything, I owed him one for giving me the opportunity to get out of that situation. Still, it was the thought that counted. “That means a lot to me.”

Kaien reached over and squeezed my hand. “Meeting you was the only good thing that came out of this mess and the Seireitei will be lucky to have you. Never doubt that.”

***

“Holy shit,” I whispered, staring up at the massive white wall in front of me. I hadn’t seen anything that large since…well, my life as Christina Dalton.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Kaien asked grinning, bouncing in excitement at my side.

“Indeed. I, for one, am glad that we’re back. Spending one week traveling with you idiots was one week too many,” Sasaki said grumpily.

“I second that,” Kawaguchi said.

Next to me, Eiji seemed to have gone mute. I reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Hey. It’s really there. You made it back home,” I said softly. He squeezed back; a silent acknowledgment and thank you. Meanwhile, Hiro wrapped an arm around Chiyo’s thin shoulders as she stared up with glistening, wet eyes.

“Oi, Higonyudou! We’re back; let us in!” Kaien shouted up to the massive gate keeper I’d somehow only just noticed. I swayed a bit, suddenly feeling a bit faint. Byakuya certainly hadn’t been exaggerating.

“I feel really small all of a sudden,” I mumbled.

“I would have thought you’d be used to the feeling by now. You’re shorter than _Chiyo,_ and she’s only five foot two,” Hiro teased. I stomped on his foot and he cursed, hopping around like a one-legged frog.

“Hiro, you shouldn’t make fun of Hisana-sensei’s height. It’s not nice,” Chiyo said softly, staring disapprovingly at her cousin. She still really only spoke when it was just me, Hiro or Eiji around, but it was still progress. Baby steps.

“Why does she always take your side?” Hiro whined.

“Because I’m more awesome than you. Obviously,” I said. The gate-keeper’s booming voice distracted me from our banter.

“Welcome back, Shiba-fukutaicho! As well as Seventh-seat Sasaki, Seventh-seat Kawaguchi and Eighth-seat Araki! Happy to see your mission was successful!” He nodded towards Hiro, Eiji and Chiyo. “Glad to have you back, Ninth-seat Kuchiki, Tenth-seat Murakami and Twelfth-seat Murakami.” He peered down at me curiously. “Little girl, I have a good memory, but I do not recall your face.”

“Ah,” I said rubbing the back of my neck and reminding myself not to get pissed that he’d just called me a ‘little girl.’ To him, everyone was probably small. “I’m Yukimura Hisana. Potential Shin’ou Academy student.”

“Have you taken the preliminary test?” Higonyudou asked. Preliminary test? What preliminary test?

“It’s okay, Higonyudou-san. I can vouch for her,” Kaien cut in. “She is more than capable of passing it.” Turning to me, he explained, “The preliminary test is just for people from the Rukongai. It’s just to gather a few facts on your background, to make sure that you meet the minimum reiatsu requirements, a brief psychology questionnaire to make sure you aren’t _completely_ bonkers, that kind of thing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course, Shiba-fukutaicho. I have absolute faith in your judgment—if you are recommending her personally, then I have no doubt in her abilities.” With a grunt, he began lifting the gates. “Welcome to the Seireitei, Yukimura Hisana.”

***

Of course, it figured that the day we arrived in the Seireitei was the day there had been a massive outbreak of food poisoning. From what it looked like, the majority of the 9th division and a good portion of the 10th were out of commission and the 4th division was being run completely ragged. There was a line stretching from the bathroom at least ten people long and earlier, I’d witnessed one particularly queasy person near the back of the line suddenly double over and vomit on the person in front of him. Kaien had left two hours ago with Sasaki, Kawaguchi and Arata after leading Eiji, Hiro, Chiyo and I to an examination room, heading off with an apologetic, “Sorry guys, gotta go file my report. Unfortunately, none of you are in immediate need of medical assistance, so it may take a while for someone to check on you.” 

“I still don’t get why we’re sitting here,” Hiro complained for approximately the 30th time. I wasn’t sure; I’d stopped counting after the sixth or seventh. “This is a complete waste of time. We’re obviously fine; I mean, we spent the past week getting fussed over by Hisana every night.” I ignored him, turning a page in my book. There was a small bookshelf lining one wall and given the fact that it didn’t look like we were going anywhere anytime soon, I’d started flipping through their selection.

“It’s protocol to report into the 4th after a mission if any injuries are sustained, especially if the mission is as…unconventional as ours was. You know that,” Eiji said coolly. His posture—just a shade too tense—betrayed his uneasiness. I glanced towards the examination table and winced. Although the examination rooms in the 4th division were obviously designed with the patient’s comfort in mind, it wasn’t hard to figure out why all three shinigami with me were less than happy about being here. An examination table was an examination table, after all, even if this one lacked shackles.

If there was one good thing about arriving on such a busy day, I supposed, it was that no one tried to put Chiyo, Hiro and Eiji in separate rooms, as there was absolutely no way any of them would have taken it well. Understandable—for almost a month, their greatest fear was that one of them would be taken away and wouldn’t be coming back.

“Hey, you’re a Kuchiki right? Shouldn’t we be getting—I don’t know—prioritized treatment or something then?” Hiro asked grinning. “They really must be busy if they’re making a _Kuchiki_ wait.”

“I am in no hurry,” Eiji sniffed. “Unlike _some people_ I could name, I do possess a modicum of patience.”

“Wow. Two hours back and you’re already reverting to your prior stick-up-your-ass- attitude. Careful, or you might turn into Sasaki,” Hiro teased.

Chiyo sighed exasperatedly when Eiji’s haughty look slipped as he scowled darkly at Hiro.

“That’s low, Murakami. Real low,” he objected. Distantly, the sound of someone swearing heavily could be heard.

“Not what you were expecting?” Chiyo whispered, leaning into my shoulder as Hiro and Eiji began bickering again.

“Arriving in the Seireitei? Not going to lie, it’s surprisingly less glamorous than I expected,” I admitted. Truth be told, it was kind of…calming, being in this environment. As sad as it sounded, being around miserable, sick men was nothing new to me.

“So much for good first impressions, huh?” She murmured.

“I’ll reserve judgement for now,” I laughed. “At least their literature selection seems decent.”

“What are you reading anyway? You’ve been absorbed in that book for the past hour,” Hiro commented, looking curious. Reaching out, he grabbed the book from me before I could protest. “’A Comprehensive Treatise on the Benefits of Meditative Reflection on Physical and Mental Health.’” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Hisana? I almost fell asleep just reading the title.”

I snatched my book back, holding it against my chest protectively. Damn it, I got no respect around here. And when did Hiro drop the honorific, anyway? “It’s a really good book!” I said defensively. “It’s all about learning how to purposefully enter your soul world, learning how to _adjust your mental landscape_ even, how to begin the process of contacting and understanding your zanpakuto spirit--” Actually, now that I thought about it, that part about soul worlds had seemed awfully familiar. I wasn’t absolutely positive, but…shaking my head, I set the thought aside to investigate later.

“The stuff about soul world psychology was seemed interesting too—I mean, I only had time to skim a couple sentences, but it’s fascinating to think about what your soul world says about your personality. And the thought of meditation helping you become more familiar with your mindscape, thus potentially granting you increased control over it…” Absently, I wondered if it’d be possible to borrow this book from the 4th division. I’d barely even skimmed the surface and already it brought up so many new questions that I wanted to investigate.

“Alright, alright,” Hiro laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get it. It’s a cool book.”

“You’ll have to visit the Kuchiki library sometime,” Eiji murmured, voice fond. “You’d love it.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in this subject,” Chiyo said questioningly. I shrugged.

“It’s just…this stuff is all new to me. It’s a whole new playground to explore,” I said, tapping my fingertips lightly against the cover of the book. “I mean, becoming a shinigami isn’t something I would have chosen for myself if I had the option, but I can’t deny that part of me is genuinely excited at the prospect. This stuff is normal to you guys since you grew up around it but…I grew up with stories of magnificent dragons that spouted white-hot flames, intelligent, talking animals from faraway lands, knights on white horses that would go on quests and battle monsters, witches and wizards and sorcerers who could cast spells of every kind—spells that could enthrall, bewitch, curse, heal, harm. But they were always just that: stories. Fairytales meant to entertain—they were never reality, no matter how much I sometimes wished they were.”

I smiled wistfully, remembering an asshole of a brother who used to tell me horror stories in secret when Mom and Dad weren’t around and marathoned Harry Potter and Lord of the Ring movies with me, a dorky best friend who never shut up about his favorite characters and shows (“I’m not _obsessed_ with anime, Christina, it’s just that the real world doesn’t offer me awesome element-bending abilities or heroic speeches on how friendship triumphs over everything”), an adorable nephew who I took trick-or-treating every Halloween before I got sick.

“And then I come into a world where giant hideous monsters _are_ real, and there are soldiers who can shoot fireballs and lightning, cut down buildings and move at super speed, where it’s possible to heal an injury that would normally take weeks or months to heal in a few _minutes,_ and where the swords are _sentient._ This has always been your reality, but to me, it sometimes still feels like I’m living a fantasy. How can I _not_ be amazed by everything?” Even after so many decades, bringing a green glow to my hands still brought me a thrum of warm satisfaction with an undercurrent of awe. I hoped I never lost that.

“I…never really thought about it that way.” Chiyo said quietly. “The way you describe it…it sounds almost magical.”

“Wait…are you sure you weren’t lying when you said that becoming a shinigami _wasn’t_ your top career choice?” Hiro asked after a beat.

I shrugged. “The high mortality rate and chance of losing a limb was kind of a deal breaker for me,” I hedged. To be honest, I’d never really had a problem with the idea of becoming a shinigami itself. Actually, it sounded cool as fuck once you got past the large chance of dying. And although I had some idea of the clusterfuck that would occur in a bit under a century, that wasn’t the main reason I wanted to avoid coming to the Seireitei either. Sure, the thought of Aizen with his insanely powerful godlike abilities made me want to curl up in a ball under my bed but I’d never planned on letting Rukia and Renji face him on their own.

What really bugged me about becoming a shinigami was the current system. What happened with the Visored…from what I understood, Aizen had managed to rid the Gotei 13 of a quarter of their top officers in one swoop. At the very least, that should have rang some alarm bells, but apparently _nobody_ had seen anything wrong with that. And then the Gotei 13 had just…thrown them away, even putting out the order for their execution and completely disregarding what was probably centuries of loyal service. Then there were the… _experiments_ the Gotei 13 had allowed the creepy angry clown captain what’s-his-face to get away with and had even sanctioned which—

I swallowed down the bile that rose up in my throat at the thought of it. Great. Leave one organization that conducted experiments of a highly unethical nature and join a much more powerful one that permitted experiments of the same moral repugnance only on a larger scale…and that wasn’t even getting into the fact that their main governing body had _ordered my sister’s execution_ in an alternate universe (I didn’t care if Aizen was behind the whole thing) for _doing her damn job_ to the best of her ability and _everyone had just gone along with it._

“Hisana-sensei?” Chiyo’s concerned voice broke me out of my thoughts. I blinked, realizing that I was gripping the cover of the book so hard that my knuckles had turned white.

“Sorry,” I smiled apologetically. “Just got distracted.” _Calm down. It hasn’t happened yet._

“The kido instructors are going to love you at the Academy,” Hiro snorted. “At the rate you’re going, if you don’t get into the First Class by your second year I’ll eat my shoes.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said mildly. “I’ll be happy enough just getting in on my first try. Most of the other students will have grown up in this environment and will have been training for decades.”

“It’s not like you need amazing combat skills to get in,” Eiji interjected, looking slightly amused. “That’s what the Academy is _for_ after all. All you need is to demonstrate some skill in reiatsu manipulation and pass the minimum physical requirements. Which we will be helping you with.”

Hiro smiled widely, casually throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Hell yes. You’ll be running laps around the other recruits in no time.”

“Two weeks is hardly enough time to get me in peak physical shape,” I said, flicking him lightly on the forehead.

“Sure it is! You have that cool muscle-building technique, right? Just use that! You’ll be fit in no time.”

I rolled my eyes. “There’s a reason I only use that technique in rare cases. You guys were suffering from muscle atrophy, so yes, I…sped up the rate at which your muscle fibers grew and divided and increased your body’s muscle protein synthesis. It’s not perfect though—exercise and training is a much better way of growing stronger. For one, you’re actually used to the increased muscle mass and you can grow accustomed to the changes in your body. For another, by exercising you eventually also enhance neural-muscular interaction—the rate at which signals travel from the brain to the body, so you train your reflexes too,” I explained. Technically, I could use reiatsu to affect that too, but the effects weren’t permanent.

“It’s amazing that you _can_ do that though,” Chiyo murmured. She smiled brightly at me. “I think I might start learning a bit of healing kido once I get the chance. I never knew that it had so many applications.”

“It can definitely come in handy,” I agreed, pleased. “Plus, you’ll be able to patch up that idiot cousin of yours.”

“Oi!” Hiro said, looking offended. I flashed him a grin before turning to Eiji. “I don’t suppose you know if the Academy offers healing kido lessons in the first year? I know that shinigami approach healing in a different way than I do, so it’d be nice to get some training in that area as soon as possible.”

“Already so set on the 4th, huh?” Eiji asked, mouth tilted up in a faint smile. “You know, just because you’re a healer doesn’t mean you _have_ to join the Fourth Division. There are plenty of other options—maybe consider joining one of the other squads, get some combat experience first?”

“You aren’t subtle, Kuchiki,” Hiro snorted while Chiyo sent Eiji a chiding look. “Why don’t you just come out and say that you want her to consider the 13th division?” As Eiji scowled at him, Hiro continued, “God, she’s not even in the Academy yet and you’re already trying to recruit her. Although Hisana,” he turned to me, a considering look on his face. “He’s got a point. Are you really sure about joining the Fourth? I have no problems with healers, obviously, but…Squad 4 is the loser squad. People like _Kawaguchi_ go there—it’s the place you go when no other squad wants you. Hell, you spend most of your time in the _sewers_ and half the people there are total wimps, seriously.”

“Is that so?” A new voice said mildly. My head whipped up and I stared wide-eyed at the figure in the doorway. Long black hair tied in a frontal braid, gentle indigo eyes, subtle commanding aura, white haori with the kanji for ‘four’ on the back _…_ even though I’d never seen her in person, I had no doubt that this was the Captain of Squad 4, Unohana Retsu. I hadn’t even sensed her come in. Beside me, Hiro seemed frozen in horror.

“Shit—I m-mean, it’s an honor Unohana-taicho, I swear that I didn’t mean that, it j-just came out wrong, it wasn’t what it sounded like,” Hiro babbled, sounding somewhat desperate. Unohana smiled and I watched with something like terrified awe as Hiro swallowed, abruptly falling silent. Next to me, Chiyo shivered as the temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly.

“I believe you. After all, I would be most…displeased if you were spreading such unpleasant rumors about my squad,” she said softly, the heavily implied ‘and you don’t want to displease me’ left unspoken. Hiro whimpered something that might have been ‘I’m sorry, please don’t kill me.’ Eiji was studiously avoiding looking at him in the universal gesture of ‘sorry man, but you’re on your own with this one.’

Gathering up my courage, I cleared my throat, ignoring Chiyo’s frantic head shaking and ‘abort, abort’ hand motions.

“Murakami-kun was just trying to give me a…comprehensive detailing of what being a Squad 4 member would entail. All divisions have their own reputation, and he was trying to make sure that, should I choose to become a medic in the future, I was prepared for the good as well as the bad. I’m sure he meant no offense,” I said diplomatically. Unohana turned to face me, oppressive aura vanishing as she did so.

“Ah. You must be the healer that Shiba Kaien mentioned,” she said, expression warming. “Yukimura Hisana, I believe? I am Unohana Retsu, captain of the Fourth Division.”

“That would be me,” I said, bowing politely. While my involvement with Akiyama wouldn’t be public knowledge—hardly any mission details were ‘public knowledge’ and certainly not when the mission was as fucked up as this one was—there were obviously still some people who would be privy to the details. Ukitake Juushiro, the captain of Squad 13 was one. It made sense that Unohana Retsu would be another. Something I was infinitely grateful for—the last thing I wanted was for my name to be associated with Akiyama’s in any way.

“I’m glad to hear that you have an interest in joining Squad 4 in a few years. From what I’ve seen, we’d be lucky to have someone like you.” She paused, eyes lingering on the tight grip Chiyo had on my hand before seeming to come to a decision. “If you would like, you’d be welcome to stay here while I conduct the examination. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Watching Unohana at work was actually a bit intimidating. I gazed wide-eyed as she performed a full-body diagnostic scan with ease—the hard part wasn’t in performing the scan, it was processing all the information from it and realizing what was wrong. She worked quickly and efficiently, testing reflexes and gently prodding certain areas, checking for pain, occasionally asking me a question (“No, there was no sexual abuse; I’m a bit worried about their appetites; they still haven’t recovered fully”), always calmly saying her next step out loud so that Chiyo wouldn’t be startled.

“Well,” she said finally, stepping back. “There is far less damage than I was expecting, given the reports. I’ll need to prescribe a proper nutritional regimen to get her back to her previous physical state and although some of her bones and muscles are still weaker than they should be, they’re in remarkably good shape—your doing, I suppose?” She asked, glancing at me. I nodded. Although healing kido could do amazing things in speeding up cellular growth, there was still only so much I could do without enough calcium and proteins. I couldn’t build anything if I lacked sufficient building blocks, after all.

After examining Chiyo, she moved onto Hiro and finally Eiji. Eiji was the worst off—as the shinigami with the most reiatsu, he’d been their…preferred subject. Although all the drugs were flushed from his system, his liver still had some residual damage that I hadn’t caught.

“Will he be alright?” Chiyo spoke up for the first time in Unohana’s presence, looking at Eiji concernedly. Eiji managed to smile reassuringly at her.

“I’ll be fine. If liver damage wasn’t possible to heal, half the 11th Division would be out of commission permanently.”

“The scarring won’t be too hard to reverse,” she murmured, holding glowing green hands above Eiji’s abdomen. “It would heal on its own in a few days, but…” Unohana glanced at me, a speculative gleam in her eyes. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” I said, a bit embarrassed that I’d missed the damage in the first place. It was relatively minor, but it was the principle of the thing. Swallowing nervously—healing in front of an audience, especially when the audience was the _premier healer in the Seireitei_ was more than a bit nerve-wracking, it turned out. Still, I closed my eyes and channeled reiatsu to my hands until they lit up with a green glow, before guiding it to where I sensed the scar tissue in the liver was densest. Carefully, I infused the cells with my own spirit energy and concentrated on breaking down the collagen tissue while simultaneously stimulating the surrounding cells to regenerate new cells to replace the scarring. After ensuring that no scarring remained, I guided my reiatsu to the perisinusoidal space, and inactivated the hepatic stellate cells found there—easily recognizable by the fat droplets they contained—to stop them from secreting further collagen. Once that was done, I withdrew whatever reiatsu remained.

“Done?” Eiji asked as I looked up. “That was quick.”

“I have a brother who owns a bar, and he doesn’t have the convenient increased healing rate that shinigami do. It’s one of the skills I’m more familiar with,” I explained. Meanwhile, Unohana ran her hand over Eiji’s abdomen in a quick scan and wrote a couple notes on a clipboard before standing up.

“You two should be able to go home later today,” she said to Hiro and Chiyo. “A nurse will come by with a nutritional regimen for the next month that I expect you to follow. Also, I will inform Shiba-fukutaicho that you two are to be given leave of absence for the next two weeks and no heavy exercise for either of you for three to four days.” I really wanted to know how she managed to pull off such a kind motherly expression with undertones of _disobey my orders and die._

“Kuchiki-san, I would prefer if you remained under observation for a few days. Some of the drugs you were exposed to may have long term effects—a few members of the retrieval team wrote in their reports that you have the occasional violent mood swings and dizzy spells?”

Eiji glared at the floor. “That wasn’t me having ‘violent mood swings,’ that was Kawaguchi being an idiot,” he muttered darkly. Huh. Apparently Kawaguchi was still holding a grudge from when Eiji had thrown him through a wall. “And I haven’t had any dizzy spells for a week.”

“Nonetheless, I would just like to make sure,” Unohana said gently. I could understand her reasoning—considering how much property damage a reasonably powerful shinigami could do, it was only logical that precautions were taken to prevent any mental breakdowns. Still, I could definitely understand why Eiji was angry.

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Hey,” I said softly. “Don’t worry. It’s only for a couple days, right? And we’ll visit you—hell, we’ll come by so often you’ll get sick of us.”

“You just want easy access to the books,” he accused, although his lips were tugging up in a reluctant smile.

“You caught me,” I said before yawning involuntarily.

“You should go—get some sleep,” Eiji said softly. “You look exhausted.”

“There’s a few inns close by,” Hiro spoke up. “We’ll be fine without you. Shoo.”

“Well, I can see when I’m not wanted,” I teased as Chiyo handed me one of my bags with an expectant look. “All right, I’ll come see you guys later. Thanks, Chiyo-chan,” I said, grabbing my other bag and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Ignoring her startled blink, I followed Unohana out the door.

“A word, please Yukimura-san,” Unohana said just as I was about to leave.

“Yes?” I asked, wondering what she wanted.

“Those three…they aren’t the first shinigami you’ve treated, are they?” She asked, looking at me with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“What makes you say that, taicho?” I asked cautiously.

“Does the name Nakano Rin ring any bells?” She asked in answer. I stilled, before sighing in resignation.

“Byakuya told you, didn’t he?” I said finally.

“Not at all. On the contrary, he was quite insistent on protecting your identity after I asked who had treated Nakano-san on their mission. However, there were too many similarities between your healing technique and the techniques used on Nakano-san for me to ignore.” I looked down, feeling something inside me warm at the confirmation that Byakuya had kept his promise.

“I asked him not to tell anyone about me. I’m not a fan of attention,” I admitted. “How…how is he? I didn’t sense his reiatsu signature anywhere nearby.” It was one of the first things I’d done after entering the Seireitei.

“On a mission, if I’m not mistaken. He should be back in a day or two.” She paused for a moment. “I admit to feeling some curiosity about you, and the way you developed your techniques. Would you be averse to stopping by my office sometime this week?”

“I—what?” I stuttered, taken aback. “I mean, of course not, it’d be an honor, but…why?”

“The way you use healing kido…I’m not sure of the specifics, but it’s very different from the conventional method. In fact, it’s far more difficult than the way most shinigami are taught, and in its own way, more energy consuming.” Well, shit. I knew that my way was different—Byakuya’s books had shown me that much—but I hadn’t known that it was _harder._ So apparently all these years I was expending far more effort than I needed to? Fantastic. “But at the same time, it seems to be far more versatile.” She paused, scrutinizing me thoughtfully. “There are limits to how much our current medical techniques can do. I’m curious as to how much you can do with yours.”

***

“Eiji-kun, it’s me,” I opened the door with a flourish. “You seemed a bit down about not being able to go home yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you a surpr—oh.” I abruptly cut myself off at the sight of an elderly man with long white hair, a stately countenance and stern eyes. My eyes involuntarily drifted to the kanji for ‘six’ on the back of his white haori and I cursed mentally. Dammit, what were the chances that I’d just happen to bump into two captains in the same number of days? And one of them being Byakuya’s grandfather? That was the last time I entered a room without knocking.

“My deepest apologies, sir,” I said, bowing deeply, while subtly shifting my left hand behind me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back later.”

“Not at all. Come in,” he said, motioning me forward. _Fuck._ “What is that you have behind your back, child?” _Double fuck._

“Ah,” I began, feeling my face heat up. I brought my hand forward to reveal a bouquet of cherry blossoms. “Eiji-san mentioned that he was looking forward to seeing the cherry blossoms in bloom. I figured since he couldn’t go see them personally right now, I would bring them to him instead.” Wow. That sounded so much less corny in my head. Eiji whirled to face me with wide eyes, gaze locked on the intricately arranged bouquet in my hands. His cheeks turned just the faintest shade of pink and I resisted the urge to fidget.

Kuchiki Ginrei’s eyebrows lifted faintly in surprise. “That’s very thoughtful of you, child. I don’t believe that we have met? I do not recall Eiji mentioning you before, although you seem to know him fairly well.”

Eiji cleared his throat. “Kuchiki-dono, may I introduce to you Yukimura Hisana. I actually met her during my mission.” Ginrei’s eyes sharpened. “She…she was the one to treat me and the others, and she, um, alerted Shiba-fukutaicho to our whereabouts. Hisa- I mean, Yukimura-san was the only reason we survived.”

“An honor to meet you, Kuchiki-taicho,” I murmured, dipping into another polite bow.

“Well. It seems that our family owes you a debt then,” he stated. “You have my gratitude for what you did for Eiji. If there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask.” Huh. I could see the family resemblance between him and Byakuya now.

“I am a healer, Kuchiki-taicho. My job is to do the best I can for my patients. There is no need to repay me for simply doing my duty,” I said quietly. Besides…Byakuya had already given me so much. Looking out for his cousin was the _least_ I could do. I didn’t want a reward for that.

Something like approval entered Ginrei’s eyes. “Well spoken, Yukimura Hisana. Nonetheless, I insist that you call upon me should you ever need a favor. So long as it does not interfere with the laws of the Gotei 13 or the laws of my clan, I will do my best to uphold my debt.”

“Thank you for the offer, but the greatest reward for me is seeing Eiji-san and his friends happy and safe. No other prize is necessary,” I deferred politely.

“If that is what you wish, I will accept your answer for now.” He motioned towards the teapot beside him. “Would you care to take some tea? I cannot say much for its quality, but it is tolerable at least.” Like I had any choice. One did not simply refuse a _captain._

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, Kuchiki-taicho,” I said, inclining my head forward.

“Eiji, if you would,” Ginrei said, motioning towards his—grand-nephew? I wasn’t sure exactly how they were related.

As Eiji reached forward to pour the tea, I glanced around the room. It was a bit better furnished than the one we’d been in yesterday; I could see a shogi board and a chessboard on the bookshelf across the room, as well as several books. On Eiji’s bedside table, I noticed what looked like a finished game of Go.

“Do you play, Yukimura-kun?” Ginrei asked, noticing my preoccupation with the game.

“Only recently,” I replied. “And not very well, I’m afraid. I was…never very good at cutting my losses.” Akiyama’s words— _your problem is that you care far too easily and far too much_ —echoed in my head and I angrily pushed them away.

“Mmm. Not necessarily a bad trait to have, in moderation. You see, the issue with Eiji is that he acts too rashly at times. Come to think of it, my grandson has the same problem. They both get frustrated quickly and abandon their stones when a more persistent approach would suit them better. I have always advised them to think more carefully before making a move, to be more open to alternatives; it doesn’t do to give up hope before all hope is lost, after all. Perhaps you can practice against Eiji sometime. I believe you two could learn quite a bit from each other.”  

“I have no objections,” I said, carefully not thinking about Akiyama and the way he’d laugh at my awful strategies or the patient way he went over the rules or the amused tilt to his lips whenever he indulged me in another game—I wrenched my thoughts away and smiled a bit wryly. “At this point, my skills can only improve.”

“Even the best must start somewhere,” Ginrei said warmly. His expression turned thoughtful. “You have a sizable amount of spiritual energy. I assume you’ll be taking the upcoming Academy exam?”

“Shiba-fukutaicho was impressed with her skills, and thought that she had the potential to become a shinigami,” Eiji explained. Ginrei nodded, eying me with a speculative look.

 “I can see why. Although—your spiritual energy seems…calm. Contained. Are you able to manipulate reiatsu already?”

“To an extent,” I said a bit awkwardly, resisting the urge to rub the back of my neck sheepishly. “I have some skill in healing kido. It’s how I was able to treat Eiji-san and his friends.” Ginrei’s eyes widened in faint surprise. “Is that right?”

“I could, um, show you, if you like,” I said a bit self-consciously, channeling a bit of reiatsu to my palms. Glancing at Ginrei, who was now staring at my hands with interest, I motioned towards his right arm.

“Your right hand seems a bit stiff. May I?” I asked. In answer, he extended his right hand towards me.

Taking it, I massaged his palm gently while infusing the muscles, tendons and ligaments with healing reiatsu. Under my touch, the muscles in his hand relaxed as I used my reiatsu to erase any lingering tension and stiffness.

“There. Does that feel better?” I asked a few moments later. Ginrei shook his hand experimentally.

“It does.” A pause. “Thank you, Yukimura-kun.”

“Anytime.” I offered him a small smile. “From what I’ve heard, the paperwork of a captain is never-ending. I’m glad to do what I can to help.”

“You heard correctly,” Ginrei said, a bit of wry humor entering his expression.

“Maybe the Fourth Division should start giving out free massages,” Eiji said, staring at Ginrei’s hand a bit jealously. “It might increase their popularity.  

              “Eiji,” Ginrei said sharply, before turning back to me. “Thank you for the demonstration of your skills, Yukimura-kun—if you don’t mind me asking, who taught you? You are from the Rukongai, correct?”

 “She came up with all her techniques all on her own! Even Unohana-taicho was impressed,” Eiji said, sounding a bit like a doting parent. I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I fervently wished there was some way I could kick him without Ginrei noticing.

“Well. That is impressive,” Ginrei commented, the faintest edge of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “No need to be embarrassed, Yukimura-kun. You should be proud—I know that I, for one, am thankful that you developed those skills.” He glanced at his watch before sighing. “I’m afraid that duty calls and I must return to my office. Eiji, I will visit you again tomorrow; until then, listen to what the healers say and get some rest please. Yukimura-kun, it was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you the best of luck on your entrance exam,” he said before sweeping out of the room.

 

“Are you okay?” Eiji asked, once the sound of Ginrei’s retreating footsteps had faded.

“Hmm?” I asked absently, from where I had slumped over in my chair. Maintaining perfect posture was _exhausting._ I had no idea how nobles did it every day, 24/7.

“You just met your second captain in as many days. That was stressful for _me,_ and I’m better prepared than you.”

“It actually wasn’t that bad. Your clan head seems pretty cool,” I said. At Eiji’s skeptical look, I relented. “Okay, at first he was pretty intimidating. He’s got a really commanding presence and his spiritual pressure levels…but he’s also a _person_ like anyone else.” I just had to remember that when speaking to him. “Even though he’s a clan head and a captain, he still came in to see you and was clearly worried about you. As far as I’m concerned, that makes him a pretty decent guy.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” Eiji laughed. “As far as clan heads go, I’m pretty lucky to have Kuchiki-dono as mine. It’s our clan elders that suck; I met them like once, and as far as I’m concerned, that was one time too many.”

“Were they your typical cabbage smelling, nagging, old people?” I asked mischievously. Eiji nodded fervently. “But _worse._ As far as I’m concerned, they should’ve all re-entered the reincarnation cycle decades ago.”

“You’re awful,” I laughed.

“But at least I’m honest,” Eiji grinned. “But enough about that. I guess I can see why meeting Kuchiki-dono wasn’t _too_ stressful—he’s intimidating, but as long as you remember your manners, you’ll be fine. But _Unohana?_ Come on, you can’t say that you didn’t find her at least a _little_ terrifying.”

“Oh definitely,” I agreed. “But it was still great to meet her—you could just _tell_ how skilled she was, you know?” I sighed a bit wistfully. “I can’t believe I have to wait six years before joining the 4th. There’s so much I could learn from her, I hate that I have to wait so long. _”_

“Your healing skills are already pretty amazing. I understand that you want to improve them, but there’s no rush,” Eiji pointed out.

“Who said anything about healing?” I asked. “I mean sure, learning healing kido from _Unohana Retsu_ would be beyond fantastic and I really hope I get the opportunity someday but nah, that’s not the main reason why I’m in a rush.”

“Oh?” Eiji asked, confused.

“I don’t care if it takes a hundred years, I’m going to learn how to smile like that even if it kills me.”

***

_Eiji Interlude_

Eiji eyed the bouquet of flowers by the window. One of the nurses had been kind enough to bring over a vase to put them in. It was strange…when he’d first been brought to that godforsaken place, he’d never imagined _befriending_ one of his captors. But, as he was coming to learn, Yukimura Hisana had always been one to defy expectations. But Eiji thought he was starting to understand her. A calm, composed exterior that masked a sharp wit and quick temper. Underneath that, a layer of insecurity and guilt—Eiji couldn’t comprehend why she seemed to blame herself for things that _weren’t her fault,_ but she seemed to be an expert at doing so. Beneath that, a seemingly infinite ability to care; who else risked so much for people they’d only known for a few weeks? Or mourned for a man who’d tortured them emotionally?

Because it didn’t take a genius to see that Akiyama had enjoyed playing with her. Perhaps he had cared for her in his own twisted way, but…Eiji couldn’t forget the time he’d brought her to the basement and made her watch. He’d been especially sadistic that day; Eiji had been doped up on drugs that made everything so much more _intense_ —colors had seemed brighter, sounds had seemed unbearably loud, the pain…unimaginable. Everything had been a blur of unbearable agony, his vocal cords tearing from the strain of screaming so loudly…and through it all, he’d seen a pair of widened blue-violet eyes, shimmering with tears. She’d actually gotten down on her knees and begged that bastard to stop. The sick fuck had merely smiled, and leaned down so that his lips brushed her cheek. She nodded to something Akiyama said—Eiji hadn’t been able to hear what exactly he’d said to her—and Akiyama had pulled her to her feet, bringing her to his body tightly, one hand gently wiping away her tears while the other stroked her hair soothingly. Comfortingly. As if he wasn’t the reason for her tears in the first place.

That had been the moment Eiji realized Yukimura Hisana was as much a victim as he was. He’d forgiven her even before she stood up for Chiyo; after all, how do you hate someone who was never to blame in the first place?

Eiji didn’t know exactly what kind of relationship Hisana and Akiyama had. Given Hisana’s reaction to his death however, it wasn’t too hard to guess that he took advantage of her tendency to care, even towards those who really didn’t deserve it. He probably did everything he could to make her emotionally attached to him; it didn’t matter that a large part of her hated him. So long as he could make her see him as a man, a _person,_ she’d have a much harder time betraying him. The thing was though, he didn’t take one thing into consideration. Because at her core, Hisana was someone who protected others. Her willingness to do _anything_ to protect those she deemed her responsibility was possibly the only thing stronger than her ability to care for those around her. For some reason, Hisana had deemed Eiji, Hiro, and Chiyo worthy of protecting. For that alone, she had Eiji’s unwavering loyalty.

A knock at his door caused Eiji to look up. It couldn’t be Hisana—she’d left not too long ago, along with Hiro and Chiyo. The sight of his cousin caused Eiji to sit up abruptly.

“Byakuya-sama!” He exclaimed, a bit surprised. “Your grandfather said that you weren’t due back until tomorrow!”

“The mission went smoothly, and we were able to finish up early. I heard about what happened.” His gaze lingered on Eiji’s pale figure. “I was worried when your mission ran late, and there was no news from you. I am glad to see that you’re recovering well.” Eiji didn’t understand why most people called his cousin emotionless. To him, Byakuya’s concern was obvious in his whitened face, the clear relief and fear in his slate-gray eyes along with a hint of true anger, his slightly windswept hair (had he flash-stepped here immediately after hearing that Eiji had returned?) and his clenched fists.

“Yeah, Unohana-taicho said that I’ll probably be released tomorrow or the day after. How are things at home? Okaa-san already came to see me, but she took one look at my injuries and cried so I didn’t really want to ask her too many things. Are the cherry trees blooming yet?” Eiji asked lightly, trying to distract his cousin from his mission. Hisana had mentioned that most of the cherry trees weren’t in full bloom yet, so with any luck Eiji wouldn’t be missing out on too much.

“Some of them are. Don’t worry, you’ll get the chance to see the flowers for yourself.” Byakuya’s gaze lingered on the vase by the window. “Although, it seems that you have a few here. Is the Fourth Division now providing flowers to put in each room? If so, I approve.” Eiji resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his cousin’s blatant adoration for anything cherry-blossom related. Obviously, Hisana was rubbing off on him.

“No, they were a gift from a friend,” he said, looking away. A hint of amusement crossed Byakuya’s face.

“Oh? Flowers from a friend, you said? Must be a fairly special one to bring you such a lovely arrangement.” Eiji’s face heated up unwillingly. About a year or so back, Byakuya had become…well okay, he was still extremely reticent but he had loosened up a bit. It was a subtle change—he talked more to the shinigami in his division, generally seemed more relaxed, and had even become friends with _Shihouin Yoruichi._ Overall, Eiji was pretty happy with new-Byakuya. Then there would come moments like this where Byakuya would lightly tease him about his (nonexistent) love life and Eiji would take it all back.

“S-Shut up! It’s not like that! She’s just a friend!” Although Hisana _was_ very pretty and fun to be around, Eiji didn’t think he’d ever be able to see her as anything more than a friendly big-sister figure with massive mother-hen tendencies.

“She’s pretty cool though,” Eiji’s voice softened. “I’ll have to introduce you to her sometime. I think you’ll like her.” Byakuya grimaced.

“Eiji, you know how I feel about you introducing me to girls—or to any of your friends, really. There are not many people who are not intimidated by me,” he pointed out.

“Maybe if you tried smiling every once in a while, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Eiji muttered. It was true enough however. Byakuya may be slightly more…open nowadays, but to those who didn’t know how to read him, he still had all the emotional expression of a rock. Which made introducing him to new people rather difficult, since pretty much everyone tended to be put off by that kind of thing. The few girls who didn’t just sit around awkwardly in his presence tended to be gold-diggers only interested in his status or money. As far as Eiji knew, the only woman outside their family who Byakuya spoke to familiarly and on a regular basis was the Captain of Squad 2. And Byakuya would rather throw himself into a pit of lava than date her. So Eiji supposed he couldn’t blame Byakuya for growing a bit cynical after a while, especially with the growing pressure the Kuchiki clan was putting on him for being the ‘perfect heir.’

Although, his refusal to spend more than ten minutes willingly talking to a girl outside professional settings was so notorious that there were actual bets flying around the Seireitei. Most of the bets weren’t even about his romantic life, as to many people, the thought of Kuchiki Byakuya actually dating a girl of his own volition was too high a goal to set. Bets ranged from ‘which girl will make him smile’ to ‘which girl can get him to say more than four sentences at one time’. For some reason though, Shihouin Yoruichi had bet a truly extravagant amount of money that he would someday marry a poor girl from the Rukongai. If she actually won that bet, Eiji thought, the Shihouin clan’s fortune would probably double.

“Anyway, this one is different! I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her being too intimidated to talk to you.” Hisana had managed to carry on an entire conversation with the Kuchiki clan head without stammering once. And she regularly yelled at/scolded Shiba-fukutaicho. And somehow got away with it.

There was something…different about her. No, that wasn’t quite the right word. It wasn’t that she didn’t fit in anywhere. It was more that she fit _everywhere._ Obviously educated, (and Eiji had no idea _how_ since as far as he knew, the Rukongai didn’t have schools), polite, with a delicate build—yet she managed to fit in with thugs, thieves, the scum of the afterlife. Common-born, lacking any hint of an aristocratic accent, untrained in the art of conversation—and she had no problems interacting with nobles, both high and low. Either way, Eiji really didn’t see her having a problem with Byakuya’s reserved demeanor—which was good since as far as Eiji was concerned, his cousin really needed more friends.

“Hisana’s tough—she’s from the Rukongai, you know. _And_ she’s talented and smart, so you don’t have to worry about her boring you. I speak from experience when I say that she’s an _awesome_ friend, and she tells great stories too!” Best not to mention her…sensitivity over being called short. Or her tendency to kick people in the shins when they annoyed her. “Plus, she’s a kickass healer. She taught herself! You can’t say that’s not impressive.” Eiji stopped short as his cousin abruptly started choking on air. There was a rather alarming spike in his reiatsu—Byakuya’s spiritual energy, normally so controlled, lashed out wildly before settling down in an uneasy perturbed state, ready to whip out at the slightest provocation.

“What did you say?” Byakuya asked sharply once he’d recovered somewhat.

“Um…that her skills are impressive?” Eiji asked hesitantly.

“No, the part where she…never mind. How did you come to meet her?” he asked, staring intently at Eiji.

“Please,” he added after Eiji didn’t go on, too busy staring at his cousin in confusion. “I…I need to confirm something.” A bit reluctantly, Eiji began giving an abridged version of how they’d met, briefly mentioning that she was a healer in the Rukongai he met on his mission-gone-wrong, skimming over the details of her previous employment, and emphasizing that she was the only reason Eiji and the others had come back at all. As far as he was concerned, the only thing anyone needed to know about Hisana was that she had done her damnedest best to get Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro home.

After a few minutes, Eiji looked up and almost did a double take at his cousin’s expression. Byakuya looked…stunned. There was no other way to describe it; Eiji didn’t think he’d ever seen his cousin so taken aback. After another split second of silence, Byakuya stood up suddenly.

“I have to go. My deepest apologies, cousin. I’ll visit you tomorrow,” he said hastily, grabbing Senbonzakura from where it rested against the wall.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Eiji called out, slightly panicked. He had no idea why his cousin was reacting this way, or where he was going, only that it had something to do with Hisana. “Dammit, Byakuya! The hell is up with you, anyway? If you hurt her, I don’t care if you’re the clan heir and a lieutenant, I’ll kick your ass!”

Byakuya paused just before he exited the room. “You don’t need to worry about that, Eiji. I merely wish to…meet up with an old friend. That’s all.”


	16. Chapter 16

             

I sighed happily to myself as I browsed the through the stacks of the used bookstore. Inuzuri had a few places that sold books, but I rarely found anything worth reading. In fact, the only halfway-decent reading material there were the romance novels, and those…well, there were only so many times I could read about the forbidden star-crossed romance of girl X with boy Y and their love triangle with Z other boy before it got boring.

Squinting upward, I inwardly cheered as I spotted the book I’d started reading in the Fourth Division a few days ago. Reaching upward, I growled under my breath as my fingers failed to reach it by about a foot. Sadly enough, the thing I missed the most from my past life was my previous height. Forget modern conveniences like smartphones, computers and cars. I just wanted to be over five feet again.

“Fuck being short,” I grumbled, reaching as high as I could while standing on my tippy toes. My fingers barely brushed the bottom of the shelf. “And fuck high shelves. This is discrimination, damn it.” An awkward half-hop half-desperate leap brought me no closer to the book I wanted and almost caused what looked like a dictionary to fall on my head. “I hate my life.”

Just as I started considering climbing one of the lower shelves, a hand covered with a white tekkou reached above me and easily plucked the book I wanted from the shelf, handing it to me.

“Thank y--” Was all I managed before I registered the reiatsu signature behind me and whirled around, eyes widening involuntarily. A familiar figure stared back at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Byakuya,” I said, swallowing heavily. His reiatsu felt ominously calm. Not a good sign.

“Hello Hisana.” I winced at his deceptively mild tone. “Long time no see. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The ‘ _of all places’_ remained unspoken.

“Um,” I replied eloquently, clutching the book to my chest. “It’s kind of a long story?”

“What a coincidence. Today’s my day off and I have nothing but time,” Byakuya said, a hint of steel edging his voice now. “My dear cousin seems to hold quite a high opinion of you and while I completely understand the sentiment, I admit to feeling some curiosity over how he was able to come across you in the first place, given the fact that Eiji was detained in the _68 th _district and you live an entire _ten districts_ away.”

 

***

Despite his words, Byakuya didn’t actually give me a chance to speak until half an hour later after he’d paid for my books (despite my protests), nearly given the shopkeeper a heart attack when he’d all but shoved a handful of kan at him (which probably far exceeded the value of the books), and somehow got us seated in a private room in an upscale expensive looking tea house in under two minutes (giving the waitress a dark glare when she'd given my slightly tattered yukata a contemptuous glance, causing her to pale drastically and scurry away).

“I’m so sorry—if I had any idea that the service here had fallen so low I would’ve never…the way she looked at you!” Byakuya said furiously, still glaring at where the waitress had exited and looking about two seconds away from standing up and demanding that she be fired.

“Byakuya, it’s fine,” I sighed, browsing the menu to avoid looking towards him. The idea of _not_ telling Byakuya the truth never even crossed my mind—if anyone deserved to know, it was him—but I was still trying to find a way to tactfully summarize the past couple of weeks. Somehow, I didn’t think that ‘oh yeah, funny story, I was kidnapped and forced to work for a yakuza group who tortured and experimented on shinigami, here, have some more tea’ was going to cut it. “Don’t be mad at her. I’m not exactly dressed accordingly.”

“That’s no excuse for her to be so unprofessional,” he frowned, though his expression softened slightly when he turned back towards me. “Order whatever you want, alright? Don’t worry about the cost.”

I lowered the menu, one side of my lips quirking up. “What did I say about buying me things?”

“Not to spend more than a tenth of my salary on them. I assure you, anything on that menu will not be a problem,” Byakuya replied promptly. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in the dark circles under my eyes. Chiyo wasn’t the only one having nightmares. “You look tired,” he murmured, reaching out with one hand, before seemingly thinking better of it and withdrawing.

“You can just come out and say that I look awful, Byakuya, I promise I won’t be offended,” I said wryly. With a frustrated sigh, I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “It’s been a…hectic couple of weeks.”

“We don’t need to talk about it now if you don’t want to,” Byakuya said quietly. “I didn’t mean to push.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d be curious too if I was in your position.” I paused as a waitress—different from the one before, I noticed—entered the room with a teapot and proceeded to pour a cup of tea for both of us. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at Byakuya’s pointed glance at the menu, I sighed and ordered a slice of plain white cake—the cheapest thing I could find and even that was ridiculously expensive.

“So, what did Eiji tell you about me? I asked a few minutes later, once the waitress arrived with my cake.

“Only that you were a self-taught healer who saved his and his companions’ lives on his ill-fated mission and afterwards decided to become a shinigami,” Byakuya replied. “I assume that’s not all there was to the story.”

I huffed a laugh. “Well, he’s not wrong,” I muttered. “And his mission?”

Byakuya’s grip on his cup tightened. “There was a yakuza group in the 68th district that was performing illicit experiments on shinigami. Eiji was among those captured.” He paused. “I admit, I still do not understand how you became involved.”

I looked down, idly tracing patterns onto the table. “There was something I hadn’t anticipated when I’d first started offering my skills in healing kido to the general public,” I began softly. “And that was just how much attention I’d attract.” Twisting my fingers together, I continued.

“Akiyama Daiki, the leader of the yakuza group that kidnapped Eiji and several others, decided that it was too much trouble to keep replacing shinigami, especially after the previous group died after only a couple of days. So he began looking for ways to ensure that the shinigami under his…care stayed alive for longer. Once he heard of me, well…I was the obvious solution.” Still avoiding Byakuya’s gaze, I let out a shaky, slightly hysterical breath. “And I succeeded. I succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. I was the perfect pawn—he knew that I would do everything in my power to keep those kids alive, because I am a pathetic, soft-hearted _fool_ and he knew that I would never turn against him because otherwise he would hurt my family and I was—am—too weak to protect them. And if I hadn’t _just happened_ to bump into Shiba-fukutaicho on the street and managed to slip him a message, I’d probably still be back there in Akiyama’s employ, and Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro would be _dead_ because despite my b-best efforts they were _d-dying,_ and…and…”

I swallowed heavily, rubbing at my eyes angrily as tears started to well up against my will. God damn it, I’d cried more in the past month than I had in the decade before that put together and I had no idea _what was wrong with me_ since it wasn’t like _I_ was the one who’d been strapped down to a table and cut open every day for weeks. Giving up on the tears as a lost cause, I instead glared angrily down at my hands. “What use is being able to heal, if I’m too fucking _weak_ to protect my own goddamned family from outside threats that _I_ attracted? If I couldn’t even stop one psychopath from hurting other people?” Too weak to protect Miwa when Aoki had set me up, too weak to refuse Akiyama’s offer, too weak to ensure my family’s safety from him, too weak to stop him from hurting Eiji, Chiyo and Hiro…

A hand reached out and firmly grasped my chin, forcing me to look up. Byakuya’s mouth was set in a thin line and there was a hardness in his eyes that I’d never seen before. “Don’t do this. Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself.”

“I--” I began, startled, but Byakuya cut me off. “You’re not perfect. You’re not a god, and frankly, it’s rather arrogant of you to think that you could prevent every bad thing in the world from happening. You were thrust into a situation that you had no control over; it happens to all of us. Bad things happen and you can’t always stop them—that’s life.” He scrutinized my expression closely. “The only thing you can do is learn more, grow stronger, so that the next time something like this happens, you’re able to stop it.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Stealing my lines now, are you?”

“Guilty as charged.” Byakuya looked completely unrepentant. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the remnants of my tears before leaning back. “Are you feeling better now?”

“A bit,” I admitted, taking a bit of my cake. After letting Byakuya’s words sink in, I suppose I did feel a bit…lighter, somehow. “You’re right, of course. I’m being ridiculous. Sorry that you had to deal with my breakdown earlier,” I said sheepishly, feeling more than a little embarrassed now. “I’m done wallowing in self-pity now, I promise.”  

“You were upset. Understandably so. Don’t apologize for that,” Byakuya said gently. “If I couldn’t deal with you being angry or sad, then I wouldn’t deserve to be your friend.”

I smiled a bit more genuinely this time. “I didn’t say this before, but I’m so glad to see you again. Less-than-ideal circumstances or not…I really missed you.”

Byakuya reached over and gave my hand a squeeze, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

***

“What. The. Hell.” I winced at Eiji’s flat tone.

“Um. I can explain?” I tried.

_“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me!”_ Eiji shrieked. I grimaced and rubbed at one ear.

“You might want to yell louder, Eiji-kun. I don’t think everyone in Soul Society heard you yet,” I muttered sarcastically, before sighing and rubbing my eyes. “Look, I’ve apologized already, haven’t I? And you have to admit that the circumstances under which we met weren’t the most…optimal for telling you. And then I suppose it just became harder and harder to bring up the longer I waited.”

“You almost caused me to have a heart attack! You should’ve seen Byakuya-sama’s reaction when I mentioned your name!” Eiji complained. “You left it up to _me_ to tell him that his secret friend suddenly decided to show up in the Seireitei when I had no idea what was going on!”

“Eiji please, remember your manners. I know for a fact that your mother did not raise you to have such an appalling sense of decorum,” Byakuya stated disapprovingly.

“Byakuya, you’re not helping,” I muttered before looking at Eiji beseechingly. “You’re right—I should have told you earlier and I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s not fair,” Eiji said grumpily before sighing. “I’m not really angry anyway—just surprised. I suppose Byakuya-sama was the one to give you that necklace you wear all the time?”

“You suppose correctly,” I answered, rolling my eyes at Byakuya. He looked incredibly pleased with himself. “Quit looking so smug. You’re such a weirdo—who the hell has so much fun buying stuff for other people?” I teased lightly.

“ _I’m_ the strange one? Normally people are _happy_ when they receive presents,” Byakuya retorted. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Careful, Hisana. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t grateful. My feelings might be hurt.”

“I’m sure your feelings will survive, Byakuya-hime,” I shot back, biting my lip to keep from smiling. Judging by the look on his face, I didn’t think I succeeded.

A spluttering noise turned my attention back to Eiji. He was staring at me in shock, mouth wide open.

“Eiji-kun? Are you all right?” I asked worriedly. He shook his head to clear it, blinking rapidly.

“I—uh—yeah. I’m fine,” he said awkwardly.  His eyes rapidly flitted between me and Byakuya. “So—um—you two are…close, then?” Eiji asked, mouth twisting strangely at the word ‘close’.

“I mean…he eats ramen with me and he lets me play with his hair and I put up with his weird obsession over Admiral Seaweed. Does that count?” I asked hesitantly. Byakuya’s eye twitched.

“As I have told you numerous times, Hisana, I do not have a ‘weird obsession’ over Admiral Seaweed. I merely respect him for being able to attain such a high rank despite the fact that he is only seaweed. Don’t you agree that such dedication should be admired?”

“Yeah, right. ‘Not obsessed’…tell that to the twenty or so pictures of him I have scattered throughout my house,” I muttered. “I’ll never understand why Rukia agrees with you on this.” Of course the _one_ thing she agreed with Byakuya on was that weird lumpy seaweed cartoons were awesome. My smile turned a bit wistful. “I’m really going to miss her and Renji. Miwa too. All of them.” To be honest, I already did. Byakuya shifted his hand down so that his fingers interlaced with mine.

“I’ll visit as soon as another mission there becomes available,” he whispered, squeezing my hand comfortingly. “Just to check up on them, see how they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll be fine. And before you know it, those two troublesome students of mine will be here—running around causing chaos, driving both of us crazy and ruining any dignity I have left.”

One side of my mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “Rukia already has her heart set on either the 6th or the 13th Division.” I wondered if it said something about my parenting skills that the primary reason for her indecision consisted of ‘do I want to annoy Oni-sensei or the spiky-haired-jerk-who-insulted-my-drawings more’.  “Renji is committed to following her either way—although they both seem to be leaning towards the 6th Division.”

“Gods help us,” Byakuya muttered before grimacing slightly. “I do not even want to imagine the reaction my grandfather will have towards them.”

“I don’t think you have to worry too much about them causing trouble if they do decide to enter your squad. Kuchiki-taicho is intimidating enough that they wouldn’t dare do anything _too_ drastic—at least while he’s around,” I said without thinking. “He’s the kind of guy who makes you instinctively sit up ten degrees straighter, you know?”

“And how would you know that?” Byakuya asked, looking at me curiously. “You’ve never met him.”

“Actually…” Eiji piped up, apparently fully recovered from his shock. “She has. Had a short discussion with him on Go tactics and gave him a hand massage and everything. So you don’t have to worry about them getting along.” Eiji’s vindictive smile showed that he was enjoying Byakuya’s surprise way too much. Looking at Byakuya’s stunned expression, I resisted the urge to bang my forehead on the nearest flat surface. It was going to be a long day.

***

“So.” I looked up to see Kaien studying me from behind his bowl of noodles. “You and Kuchiki-fukutaicho are pretty good friends, huh?”

“Wow. Gossip really does travel faster than the speed of light around here,” I muttered, scowling.

“Oh, I only know because I caught Eiji talking to the Murakami cousins about it this morning. It’s not common knowledge yet—though I wouldn’t count on it remaining that way for long,” Kaien explained before eying me thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d that happen?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, shoving a bunch of noodles into my mouth to avoid answering. Kaien snorted.

“Kid, I’ve known Kuchiki Byakuya since he was a tiny, snot-nosed brat with a temper the size of half of Rukongai. He doesn’t get close to many people easily. I’m curious as to how you managed to befriend the Kuchiki heir of all people.”

“He was injured in a mission just outside Inuzuri and got himself into some trouble with a few local thugs. I helped him out. The end,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I really don’t see what the big deal is. Now are you going to help me out with this stupid test, or not?”

“You’re no fun,” Kaien pouted, before relenting. “Fine. Of course I’ll help you, kid. Besides, I was the one who submitted your name to be entered in the upcoming Academy exams. It’d be hella embarrassing if you didn’t pass.”

“What’s this? A lieutenant actually offering to help train a pre-Academy student? Shiba-fukutaicho, I didn’t know you had it in you.” A voice teased lightly from behind me. I watched with interest as Kaien subconsciously straightened up in his seat, nervously running one hand through his hair.

“Ah…Miyako-san!” He exclaimed, standing up and hastily bowing—almost knocking over his chair as he did so. “Back from your mission, I see? Uh…” Kaien glanced around somewhat desperately before his gaze settled on an empty chair at the table next to us. He grabbed it, ignoring the indignant exclamations from the people at the table. “Would you, um, like to join us? The ramen is really good!” There was a faint flush starting to crawl up his neck, I noted with amusement. Who knew that a flustered Kaien could be so adorable?

“I’m afraid that I only have time to stay for a few moments, although I’d be glad to take you up on your offer some other time,” Miyako—a very pretty woman with long black hair done up in a bun—said, smiling warmly. Kaien seemed to glow at her words, scratching the back of his neck. The tips of his ears were now an endearing shade of red.

“Uh—great! That’d be awesome, yeah! It’s a date!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize what he’d just said. “I mean, not like a date-date, I meant like a friend-date, ‘cause being friends is amazing, unless of course you wanted it to be a date-date, in which case I’d be fine with it--” Kaien babbled. Finally deciding to take pity on the idiot—Christ, he just kept digging himself deeper, didn’t he? His only saving grace was that Miyako appeared to be just as enamored with Kaien as Kaien was with her, if the fond look in her eyes was anything to go by—I pointedly cleared my throat.

“Yukimura!” Kaien said—seemingly surprised, as if he’d forgotten my existence in the presence of his crush. In all likelihood, he probably had. “Um, Miyako-san, this is Yukimura Hisana, an upcoming Academy student that I met in the Rukongai. Yukimura, this is Fukui Miyako, 3rd seat of Squad 13.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I murmured quietly, bowing respectfully.

“You as well.” Miyako replied kindly. “So Shiba-fukutaicho is going to help you prepare for the Academy entrance exam then?”

“He’s kindly allowed me the use of his division’s training grounds to prepare. I’m very grateful for all the trouble he’s taken to ensure that my arrival in the Seireitei has been comfortable,” I said, inserting as much gratitude into my voice as I could.

“And how are you settling in? I know that the transition from Rukongai to the Seireitei isn’t always easy.”

I hesitated, allowing my lips to quiver slightly while widening my eyes. “I was really scared about coming here, you know, because I used to live in the 78th district and everything is so _different_ here and it’s been really hard being away from my family but…but everyone here has been so nice and Shiba-fukutaicho always takes the time to check in on me.” I cast an admiring look at him. He sent a confused what-the-fuck-are-you-doing expression back and I resisted the urge to sigh despairingly. Completely hopeless, that one. “It’s just…I’m really glad that the Gotei 13 has men like him. It makes me feel so much better.”

Upon seeing Miyako’s expression soften and the impressed glance she sent Kaien, I mentally patted myself on the back.

“Well, I’m happy that you’re settling in nicely. If you ever need any advice, don’t be afraid to come to me, alright? Whether it’s help with schoolwork, if there’s someone bothering you, if you just want a girl to talk to…” She winked at me and I smiled shyly back.

“Thank you, Fukui-san,” I murmured.

“No problem. Us girls have to stick together, right?” She glanced at her watch and looked faintly regretful. “I have to go turn my mission report in. Shiba-fukutaicho, I’ll see you later?” Miyako smiled hesitantly, sweet and tentatively hopeful.

“Of course.” Kaien beamed. I mentally pictured Kaien as a black Labrador puppy, tail wagging furiously, and had to suppress a snort. Idiots in love, the both of them.

I allowed Kaien five seconds of dreamily staring after Miyako’s departing figure before speaking up.

“So, when are you going to ask her on a date?” I asked casually. “A proper one, not…whatever the hell that was a moment ago.”

Kaien startled wildly, and almost knocked his bowl of ramen over as he flailed his arms.

“What—I mean—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, picking up his chopsticks again.

“Yes you do. You _like_ her.” I grinned widely, resisting the urge to cackle.

“Of course I do. She’s a good friend. I like my friends,” Kaien said defensively. It was almost pitiful to watch.

“Uh huh. Suuure. Kaien and Mi-yako, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” I sing-songed.

“Stop it! I don’t..it’s not like tha--”

“First comes looooove. Then comes marriage. Then comes a baby in a baby carria--” I continued gleefully.

“Shut up! Alright, alright! I admit it, okay? Just keep your voice down!” Kaien hissed, making frantic shushing motions at me. I smirked smugly. He glared at me before slumping down in resignation.

“How did you know?” He asked, morosely stirring the ramen broth with his chopsticks. I chose the answer that had the most potential for amusement, waiting until he took a large bite of ramen before replying.

“Honestly? You couldn’t stop staring at her ass,” I stated bluntly, pretending to ignore the way Kaien choked on his noodles and the way he sputtered in protest. I took a sip of my water, nodding sagely before adding, “Plus, feminine intuition.”

“You…you are evil, you know that?” Kaien stated accusingly, pointing his chopsticks at me. “An evil, evil _devil_ hiding behind a sweet, innocent exterior. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.”

“Now, would an evil person help you out by portraying you as a kind, thoughtful senpai in front of your crush?” I pointed out reasonably. “You owe me big time for that, by the way.”

Kaien stilled in thoughtful silence for a moment before a wicked glint entered his eyes. I stared back at him warily.

“You know what? You’re right. I _do_ owe you,” he said cheerfully. “And that’s why I, being the ‘kind, thoughtful sempai’ that I am, am going to take a personal hand in your training. I mean, I was already planning on helping you out by letting you use our training facilities. This will just be taking that one step further.” His grin widened. “Don’t worry Yukimura. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll pass that test with _flying colors.”_

***

“Has—anyone—ever told you,” I huffed out between panting breaths, “that you—are a— _complete and utter_ bastard?”

Kaien had made good on his promise. The very next day, the hyperactive idiot had come knocking on my hotel door at _five in the morning,_ since apparently the ‘only time he was free’ was from 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. Which was complete bullshit in my opinion, and obviously just a part of his plan to get me back for yesterday. He’d then went over the requirements for passing the Academy entrance exam. There was a writing portion (“I’m pretty sure that one’s just to test if you _can_ read and write, so you should have no problems there”), a reiatsu testing portion (“eh, there’s really no preparing for that one—you just imbue your spiritual energy into some kind of orb thing that measures your reiatsu levels”) and a physical portion.

It was the physical portion of the test that we were focusing on. According to Kaien, the minimum requirements for entrance into the Academy were being able to run two miles in fifteen minutes, do thirty pushups in one minute, forty sit-ups in one minute, climb a rock wall in five minutes and a 300-meter run in sixty-five seconds. Kaien’s personal standards were significantly higher—what he was aiming for was to have me run two miles in twelve minutes or less (“preferably ten but I suppose twelve will do”), a 300-meter run in fifty seconds and to be able to climb a rock wall in three and a half minutes.

“I’ll have you know that my parents were married when they had me,” Kaien grinned, glancing down at his watch just as I passed the finishing point. “Aaaand time. 13:54, not bad. Still have room for improvement, but better than I was expecting.”

“What? Do I look slow or something?” I scowled, panting for breath.

“Nah, but considering that you probably have to run two steps for every step a person of normal height takes—ow!” He hissed as I stomped on his foot. Jerk.

“Hisana-sensei?” A familiar voice called from somewhere behind me. Turning around, my eyes widened as I saw Chiyo come out of the nearest building carrying a huge jug of lemonade, Hiro next to her. Chiyo shifted self-consciously as her eyes met mine. “Um, Shiba-fukutaicho said that you were training here today, so I thought I could make you some lemonade…I mean, I know you’re probably tired…”

“Chiyo, you wondrous angel, light of my life, source of my only hope, I am so glad to see you right now,” I breathed, ignoring Kaien’s snort from next to me. Bounding over with newfound energy, I snatched up the glass that Chiyo offered me and promptly downed it in about five seconds. “I would hug you, but I’m super sweaty right now and I don’t want to get you dirty.”

“What, I don’t get a warm welcome?” Hiro teased. I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, if you insist,” I said fondly, giving him a quick hug before reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Not that I’m not glad to see you two, but what are you doing here? You should be on leave,” I scolded gently. His cheeks were still a bit sunken in and there were faint shadows under his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even risen yet. You need to be resting more.”

“We’re fine, Hisana,” Hiro said, sounding slightly exasperated. “Besides, it’s not like we were getting any sleep anyway,” he muttered afterwards. I stiffened, pulling back.

“How are you? Really?” I asked quietly, looking between him and Chiyo. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m---”

“We’re _fine._ God, Hisana, you can be really pushy sometimes. Will you let it go?” He snapped. I stepped back, stung. _He went through hell. He’s allowed to lash out,_ I told myself firmly. It still hurt.

“Hey! Don’t speak to her like that,” Chiyo said, glaring at her cousin. “She’s just worried.”

“No, it’s alright, Chiyo. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile onto my face. “It’s great to see you two again. Thanks again for the lemonade.” Handing Chiyo back the cup, I turned to go back towards Kaien, who was watching us with an unreadable expression on his face. Before I could however, Hiro sighed heavily and grabbed my wrist.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s just…I really don’t want to talk about it right now, alright?”

My smile turned a touch more genuine. “I understand. Just know that if you ever do want to talk, I’ll always be there for you, ok?”

***

I fidgeted a tad nervously as I stood waiting outside Unohana’s office. The curious looks I was garnering from several nearby shinigami did nothing to calm my nerves. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Unohana stepped out with a smile.

“Hello Yukimura-san. I hope that I have not kept you waiting?” She asked warmly.

“Not at all, Unohana-taicho,” I said, bowing politely.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. I understand that you must be very busy preparing for your upcoming exams, after all.”

“To be perfectly truthful, taicho, I’m a bit relieved,” I said honestly. “Shiba-fukutaicho is a great help to me in my training and I am enormously grateful that he’s taking the time to aid me, but…” I hesitated, smiling a bit sheepishly. “He’s by no means an easy teacher.” Running up and down hills for hours on end was not my idea of fun. Nor was doing push-ups while he had Chiyo sit on my back. If I wasn’t able to speed up my muscle recovery and break down any lactic acid/other waste products at an accelerated rate, I had no doubt that I’d be too sore to move right now. Kaien, the asshole, had of course taken full advantage of my control over my own metabolism and had doubled the intensity of his initial training regimen. At least Unohana’s request to speak with me today had given me an excuse to get out of a day’s training.

“I’d imagine not,” Unohana laughed lightly. She paused for a moment. “I had the opportunity to see the results of your healing techniques on Nakano Rin and I was able to see you demonstrate a small portion of your skill a few days ago on Kuchiki Eiji. While I have some idea of what you can accomplish with your version of healing kido, I admit I would like to conduct a few more tests. Would you mind assisting me around the division today?”

“I—I have no objections.” I said with slightly widened eyes, swallowing. Only decades of practice kept my hands from shaking. Biting my lip, I glanced down, feeling a bit nauseous. The thing was—Unohana actually seemed a bit _impressed_ with me. Fuck, she was taking the time to _personally_ test my skills; the greatest healer in the afterlife, a healer who had _centuries_ of experience more than me, thought that I had _potential._ And at that moment, I was absolutely, unequivocally terrified of disappointing her.

By the time we reached the patient’s room, I had calmed down a little. I’d healed thousands of people before, had treated injuries of all kinds. I could do this. That calm promptly flew out the window when I actually got a good look at the patient’s injury. The poor guy seemed to have been doused in some kind of chemical—there were angry red burns stretching up his right arm and half his chest alternated between splotches of blistered, reddened skin and patchy, leathery white. One of the healers looked up in relief as Unohana entered the room.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here, taicho. One of the hollows apparently could spray some sort of poison that just ate away at the skin…”

“Did you rinse the affected area with water?” I interrupted sharply, placing a hand on the patient’s forehead. Not clammy although the skin was a bit pale, pulse elevated but not to the point where I had to worry about him going into shock yet; good. Cell coagulation extending into the deep dermal layer; not good. “It’s an acid burn. It’s going to continue causing damage unless the acid is removed completely.” One of the healers looked up startled, before nodding his head.

“It’s protocol to rinse off any potentially poisonous area with running water first,” he told me. I nodded. “Good. Now, this area is completely unsalvageable, so I’m going to need a scalpel,” I said. “Also, if you have any burn salve—preferably ones containing alginate—that would be great, thank you.”

Several surgical excisions, a few makeshift skin grafts (in which I took small patches of skin from other parts of the patient’s body, transplanted them to where the dead tissue used to be and used my reiatsu to stimulate them into multiplying until the injured area was completely covered with a new layer of skin), and multiple dressings on the less damaged areas later, the last of my nerves had vanished. By the time I started working to increase tissue perfusion in the zone of stasis to hopefully prevent the tissue damage from becoming irreversible, I’d all but forgotten Unohana was still there.

“Well done,” Unohana said, watching me carefully finish wrapping the patient’s arm up in bandages. There would most definitely be some scarring, but…it wasn’t nearly as bad as it might have been, since I’d regrown most of the damaged skin. “Burns, particularly ones of that severity, are often one of the hardest injuries to treat. Especially when the patient has a particularly low level of reiatsu—many of my healers could not have handled that as well as you just did.” She nodded to another healer by the door, who was staring at me with wide eyes. “Please bring Yukimura-san something to eat and drink. I’m sure she’s tired.”

A few minutes later, I was sitting in her office sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on a biscuit.

“Unohana-taicho…” I began hesitantly. She nodded encouragingly at me.

“Yes, Yukimura-san?”

“The last time we met, you said something about how the way I heal is more difficult than current conventional healing techniques. Could you explain what you meant by that?” I asked. She took a sip of her tea, considering me carefully before setting her cup back down and standing up.

“Seeing you heal today gave me a better idea of how you go about treating injuries—and someday I would dearly love to know how you came by your knowledge—but until I experience it for myself, I won’t be able to give you a definitive answer,” she replied. “And that’s why I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to perform one more test today.”

“Experience it for yourself--?” I repeated, somewhat confused…before almost dropping my teacup as Unohana withdrew a dagger from inside her haori and promptly stabbed it _through_ her hand. She then calmly pulled it out with a sickening squelch—and, oh god, she hadn’t even so much as _flinched_ this entire time—and extended her mutilated hand towards me. “Yukimura-san, if you would?” She asked politely, ignoring the way her hand was now steadily dripping blood on her office floor.

Her words broke me out of the horrified trance I was in and I gently took her hand in my own, all thoughts of weariness forgotten. Infusing the wounded area with my reiatsu until her hand was positively saturated with my spiritual energy, I quickly numbed the area. I then intertwined strands of my reiatsu with Unohana’s spiritual energy and manipulated the two broken metacarpals and the nearby bone fragments back into place. After stimulating the bone tissue to knit back together, I then focused on reconnecting nerves and stitching together the damaged muscle, dermal tissue and epidermis. By the time I finished, there was only a thin, barely visible line where the knife had entered her body.

“Six minutes,” Unohana stated quietly.

“What?” I asked, too shaken to bother being polite.

“Six minutes to heal two shattered bones and a stab wound. Factoring in the accelerated healing I have as a captain, I estimate that on a person of average reiatsu, it would have taken you between ten to fifteen minutes. Either way, I can safely say that you’ve exceeded my expectations, Yukimura-san.”

I wiped away a thin layer of sweat from my forehead. “Unohana-taicho,” I stated finally, looking up to stare her in the eyes. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I must know—was stabbing yourself through the hand really necessary?”

A hint of apology entered her expression. “I do regret any mental distress I may have caused you, but I admit that I wanted to see how you would react when under pressure and exposed to unexpected situations.” Right. ‘Unexpected situations,’ indeed. If she was willing to stab herself just to test the skills of a not-even-Academy-level-shinigami, I never, ever wanted to cross her.

“In either case, I do believe that I have all the information I need to answer your questions,” she continued. “First of all, how much do you know about how healing kido in the Seireitei works?”

“Not very much,” I admitted. “I’ve read a bit about how a person’s natural reiatsu reserves affect their recovery.” Thinking back to what I’d read in the books Byakuya sent me, I added, “Once injured, a person’s reiryoku and reiatsu immediately travels to the wounded area. This speeds up cellular activity and metabolism, which allows the person to heal at an accelerated rate. That’s why when healing a shinigami, often the first step is to replenish the patient’s own spiritual energy reserves by using a reiatsu transfer technique. This allows the body to speed up its healing on its own.” I twisted my fingers slightly. “However, that’s operating under the assumption that the patient _has_ spiritual energy of their own. Most of my patients in the Rukongai, um…”

“Wouldn’t have had spiritual energy to begin with. Of course,” Unohana murmured. I nodded—it was why I hadn’t tried _that_ hard to figure out the reiatsu transfer technique by myself. There wasn’t much of a point, when the technique would have been ineffective for the vast majority of my clients anyway—I couldn’t replenish someone’s spiritual energy reserves if they didn’t _have_ any reserves, after all.

“I can see your point. General healing kido—what you just described—really wouldn’t work too well on the majority of souls.” And didn’t that say something about just how separate the Seireitei was from the rest of Soul Society? “Your description is fairly accurate. General healing kido works by replenishing a shinigami’s spiritual energy—the healer then links their external reiatsu with the patient’s internal energy and guides it as needed to the most vital wounds. As you’ve likely noticed, the soul is remarkably resilient and good at resisting change of any kind—be that aging or recovering from damage. The body will almost always go back to the way it was before after receiving some injury, if given enough time. In general healing kido, a healer only speeds the natural healing process up,” Unohana explained, eying me thoughtfully. “Of course, the more reiatsu a soul has, the more pronounced that effect is, which is why healers almost always find it easier to treat shinigami of captain or lieutenant class.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled at me.

“Of course, while general healing kido does have its advantages—it doesn’t require a high level of reiatsu, and only a very basic understanding of the human anatomy is needed—there are of course injuries that the body cannot recover from naturally. That is why higher level medics, typically fifth seat and above, are able to perform a branch of healing kido spells—known as Chiyudou spells—to deal with injuries that require a more specialized touch. For example,” Unohana made a sweeping motion with her arm, “Chiyudou #23: Awaken is a resuscitation spell that can be used to great effect—if a patient is going into cardiac arrest, a skilled healer can shock the heart into beating again. In some cases, it can even be used to rouse a patient from a coma. Chiyudou #48: Attach allows a healer to reattach a recently severed limb.”

“You can reattach a _limb?”_ I asked with wide eyes. I wasn’t afraid to admit that while I could heal a partially severed limb, putting an arm or a leg _back on_ was completely out of my league. Jesus Christ…well, that was definitely going on my (rather long) list of ‘things to learn.’

“Yes, I can. Impressed?” Unohana asked, smiling faintly.

“Very,” I answered immediately.

“Of course, while Chiyudou spells for the most part don’t require a spoken incantation, they do follow the rules of all kido spells— healing or otherwise. That is to say, they’re very…rigid. Each spell was designed for a specific purpose and cannot accomplish anything outside of its set purpose. That is why you generally cannot use healing kido in combat. Of course, it’s possible to make a mistakes—for example, using too much reiatsu on a numbing spell can result in hours of numbness instead of minutes. But the way healing kido is structured, you wouldn’t be able to destroy a nerve cell by botching a numbing spell. There are a few instances in which you can use healing kido to attack—overpowering a resuscitation spell is the example I typically like to use. However, why bother to do that when there are attack kido specifically designed to cause harm?” Unohana asked, shaking her head. “Anyway, when it comes down to it, every healing spell is designed with the same purpose in mind—to repair. And that is why attack kido will always be more efficient in combat than healing kido.” Made sense, I suppose. “But what you do is different.”

I blinked in surprise. “I…I’m afraid I don’t understand, Unohana-taicho. What you just described is very similar to what I do. I mean, I wouldn’t call my techniques _spells_ but…don’t they accomplish the same thing?”

“But that’s just it,” Unohana said, clasping her fingers together and leaning forward. “Both your techniques and our Chiyudou spells require the healer to personally repair the injury using their own reiatsu, and they both require a relatively high level of knowledge about the human anatomy. However, what a Chiyudou spell can do is limited to the parameters of that spell—from what I can tell, you saturate the injured area with your reiatsu, which allows you to sense what is happening in that region at a _cellular level_ and grants you almost complete control over it. You aren’t limited to just healing—you can speed up cellular activity, slow it down, simultaneously repair skin and muscle and bone, even instigate _cell death…_ in the field of healing kido, what you do is revolutionary. Of course, I imagine that it requires incredible mental focus and is likely very taxing as it lacks the guidelines even the most basic Chiyudou spells have, thus requiring you to be in control of every step. Without those guidelines, it is also far easier to make a mistake. In the hands of someone without sufficient knowledge, it could very easily be deadly,” Unohana said, voice quietly serious.

“I know. I’ve found that intent—not just knowing what you’re doing, but what you want to happen—is key,” I answered softly. When I first started out, I didn’t know…it was only several months later when I tried healing a mouse in a frustrated state of mind and accidentally activated rapid onset cellular breakdown (its entire limb had rotted completely. In the end I’d killed it just to put it out of its mercy) that I realized just how dangerous my skill could be. In retrospect, I’d been incredibly lucky that I hadn’t accidentally given myself cancer or something in the early stages of testing it out. It was the main reason why I had Miwa only test her skills on animals, why I didn’t let her heal more than the most basic cuts and bruises and even then, only when she was completely calm.

“Do you understand now? Your technique is more akin to body manipulation, of which healing is only a subset.” She set down her teacup and stared me in the eye. “It’s far more draining and quite dangerous…but it’s also far more versatile. In terms of healing alone, there is no doubt that the…conventional method is more efficient and easier. It will likely always be that way. But in terms of sheer potential…” She fell silent and an unreadable expression crossed her face. “I have no doubt that you will be a great asset to the Fourth, Yukimura Hisana.”

***

_I was choking, the air tasted like salt and rust. Staggering, I sank to my knees, clutching my chest. Something was dripping nearby. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Something wet landed on my cheek, just under my right eye. I wiped it off, then stilled at the smear of red on my hand. A hand reached forward, grasping my chin with unforgiving fingers and yanking my head up harshly. I inhaled sharply as my eyes met cold, gold ones._

_“Well, well, Hisana-chan. It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Akiyama grinned abruptly, an oh-so-familiar mocking grin._

_“No—you—it can’t be,” I whispered frantically, trying to move away but my legs wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t they move?_

_“’Fraid so, darling,” he hummed cheerfully before pouting. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me? Weren’t we_ friends?” _The last word was laced with sarcasm. “Then again, maybe not. After all, you did give me_ this.” _He snarled, an ugly expression crossing his handsome features as he ripped his yukata open to reveal a gaping hole in his chest. I gazed, transfixed, staring at the wound with a sort of nauseated, horrified fascination. The edges were covered in dried blood and I could see maggots writhing around inside, a mass of squirming, disgusting larvae eating away at the decaying flesh. When I finally tore my eyes away and looked back up, it was to find Tatsuya staring back at me. My breath caught in my throat._

_“Why Hisana?” He whispered hoarsely. I swallowed. My throat felt tight. “Why did you do this?”_

_I could only shake my head in answer, unable to speak. It felt like my lungs were collapsing._

_“I took care of you, I looked after you.” He looked away in disgust, before withdrawing a familiar dagger from his waist. “Well, no matter. You’ll be with me soon.”_

_I couldn’t breathe._

_Tatsuya turned back to me and smiled. “After all, we both know you’re living on borrowed time.”_

_My chest felt tight, too tight._

_He raised his knife and—_

_\-- I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out—_

_\-- even as I looked, the flesh on Tatsuya’s face began rotting away, leaving behind only a grinning, white skull--_

_\-- the knife came down._

I sat up so quickly my head spun, taking huge, heaving gulps of air. Pulling my knees up, I clutched them tightly to my chest, trying my best to get my shoulders to stop shaking. Distantly I realized I was crying, large, undignified sobs that wracked my entire body with shivers, my face covered in tears and snot. After a while, I mustered the energy to get up and wash my face, before grabbing the nearest shirt and pants I could reach and heading outside. There was no way I was going to get any sleep now.

Running through the empty streets of Seireitei at a slight jog, I decided to make my way over to one of the more distant training grounds Kaien had taken me to. Once I got there, however, I realized that someone was already there.

It only took me a moment to realize that the panting, hunched over figure was Hiro, although what he was doing here so late at night and so far from his family compound, I had no idea. Quietly making my way over, I was just about to call his name when he whirled around and pulled out a knife, pointing it at me with wild eyes.

“Whoa! Hiro, put the knife down!” I said, hastily stepping back with my hands raised in a gesture of surrender. After of moment of squinting at me in the moonlight, he snorted and slipped the knife away again.

“Oh. It’s just you. What are you doing out here so late at night?” He asked listlessly.

“I could ask you the same question. Isn’t your clan compound in the opposite direction?” I asked. My stomach dropped as I saw him visibly stiffen. Just as I was about to apologize for overstepping—again—he sighed and looked up towards the moon. He didn’t talk for several minutes but just as I was about to leave and find another training ground to run in, he spoke up.

“Did you know I pulled a knife on my mother a couple days ago?” Hiro said, before laughing hollowly. “All she did was tap me on the shoulder and I—I almost gutted her. My own _mother,_ Hisana.” He rolled his head to look at me. “She’s been too afraid to come near me since. Some son I am, huh?”

“Oh, Hiro,” I murmured, stepping forward.

“I’ve barely been home since. Because I’m not _safe_ to be around, not even around members of my own family. Hell, I just threatened _you,_ and you’ve been keeping me alive almost since that bastard Akiyama first got his hands on us! Who’s next, huh? Chiyo? She doesn’t need that; she’s got enough on her plate.” There was a kind of desperation in his eyes now, but I found myself unable to speak. “So much for being able to protect her. At this rate, I’ll be the one she needs protecting _from._ God, I’m pathetic,” Hiro mumbled, running his hands over his face.

“Hiro, you…you can’t…you aren’t…” I fumbled for words, unable to think of anything to say in the face of his overwhelming self-loathing. He looked up at me, a twisted smile crossing his face.

“I’m not what? Pathetic?” He snorted. “Let me tell you something, Hisana. You know that knife I just pulled out? Well, I’m carrying six of them on my body right now because guess what? I don’t feel safe unless I have at least four blades, of varying shapes and sizes, with me at all times. Actually—who am I kidding? I don’t feel secure even then. At least Eiji’s doing a bang-up job of pretending that the whole thing never happened, like it was some kind of fucked up vacation gone wrong. I can’t even enjoy my life now that I’m free again! Because every time my thoughts drift, every time I freaking _close my eyes,_ it’s like I’m back in that place again!” There were tears in his eyes now.

I took a deep breath before gently placing my hands on his shoulders. “Murakami Hiro. Listen to me. I’m not going to tell you that you’re not a bit messed up right now. But anyone would be—hell, _I’m_ messed up and I wasn’t even the one locked away in that basement. I know it may not seem like it right now, but…you’re strong, Hiro. You’ll get through this. You’re so _unbelievably, incredibly_ strong and I know that because even when under the effects of dozens of drugs, even when they hurt you… _not once_ did you ever stop trying to protect Chiyo. And she’s so lucky to have a cousin like you looking out for her.” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “You may have almost hurt me and your mother but _you didn’t._ You stopped yourself before you did, and I believe that counts for something.”

Hiro exhaled heavily, though his muscles relaxed a bit. “Man, this whole thing just sucks, doesn’t it? You’d think that the hard part would be getting out alive and then we could all just get back to our normal lives but...” He pursed his lips. “I wish that this whole thing never happened in the first place. It _shouldn’t_ have happened in the first place. Three seated officers…he shouldn’t have been able to get us within a _hundred feet_ of that basement.”

“So get stronger, faster, _better,_ and the next time some bastard tries to hurt you or anyone you love, beat the shit out of him and stab him in the balls,” I said shrugging. “I guarantee that that will put an end to any further kidnapping attempts.” 

Hiro let out a startled laugh. “You make it sound so simple,” he grinned, a bit of his usual humor entering his features. “If only it really was that easy.”

“But it’s not impossible, yeah? And in the end, that’s really all that matters,” I said, reaching down and squeezing his hand gently.

***

“Damn it,” I grumbled as yet _another_ stray cat wobbled over to me with glazed eyes and promptly began licking my hand enthusiastically. “I _knew_ this was a bad idea.” Although I couldn’t see Kaien anywhere, I just _knew_ that he was laughing at me right now.

It was the stupid spiky-haired idiot’s fault that I was in this situation to begin with. With the Academy test date rapidly approaching, he had suggested giving me a ‘final mission’ of sorts, to “test my problem solving skills, stealth, speed and endurance.” He’d then whipped out an impressively realistic looking drawing of a black cat with golden eyes and had told me that when I “managed to capture it, my training would be officially complete,” and that as a reward, he’d “talk to his sister about giving me lessons on how to create fireworks.” When I asked how I’d be able to tell if I’d captured the correct black cat, his eyes had glinted evilly and he’d replied with “Don’t worry, Yukimura, you’ll definitely know it when you see it. After all, it’s the only cat in all of Soul Society with the ability to talk.”

Well, my memories of canon-Bleach may have been incredibly blurry at this point, but even so I had a nagging feeling that I knew _exactly_ which black cat he was talking about. And while I was confident in my own abilities, I wasn’t stupid. My chances of catching _Shihouin Yoruichi,_ Captain of the Second Division, Head of the Stealth Forces, the _freaking Goddess of Flash,_ the fastest shinigami _ever_ in the history of the Gotei 13 were approximately…nonexistent. Nada, zero, zilch.

And Kaien, the freaking _bastard,_ knew that. Hence why he was probably laughing his ass off at me right now. ‘Final skills assessment,’ yeah right—this was for his own amusement and I knew it. However, my pride kept me from turning down the mission—impossible though it may be—without giving it a try first. Not to mention, I technically wasn’t _supposed_ to know that the Shihouin clan head could turn into a cat, so it’d probably be suspicious if I didn’t give it a decent effort. Byakuya had mentioned her, of course, but while he tended to refer to her as ‘that damned cat-lady’, he hadn’t actually said anything about her transforming into an _actual cat._

Which brought me to where I was now. Standing between the Third and the Fourth divisions (I would have camped outside the Second Division, but I figured that might be too suspicious), decked in catnip with a variety of relatively high-grade sashimi spread out on several plates before me, in addition to a few paper boxes I’d managed to find (cats liked boxes, right?).

Hey, if I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell at catching Yoruichi with speed, I could at least give bribery a try.

“Here, kitty kitty,” I called out halfheartedly, pointedly ignoring the snickers coming from a pair of shinigami who just came out of the main Third Division building. I’d admittedly miscalculated the degree of attention that I would attract, and just how publicly humiliating this would be. “Not _you,”_ I snapped as Not-Yoruichi Cat #17 leaped up onto my shoulders and started gnawing at my hair. “Goddammit, I’m going to _kill_ Shiba for this.” At least I’d had the foresight to cover my face, so I wouldn’t be recognizable. I comforted myself with the thought that at least no one would know it was me—people would just think that I was some random weird cat lady. Just as I finished thinking that--

“Hisana, is that you?” I stiffened, gritting my teeth. _Fuck,_ so much for hoping that my reiatsu-sensing abilities were skewed today and that it _wasn’t_ Byakuya standing approximately ten feet behind me right now. There were maybe _five people_ in all of Seireitei who could recognize me when I was suppressing my reiatsu to this extent, and one of them just _had_ to show up. Although, I didn’t recognize the signature beside him…

Turning around reluctantly, I was torn between the urge to laugh hysterically or break down into sobs at the sight of a familiar stunningly-attractive woman with distinctive purple hair decked out in a captain’s haori standing next to a bemused-looking Byakuya, eying me curiously. Well, at least I succeeded in attracting her attention, although admittedly not in the way that I’d hoped.

“Byakuya. So nice to see you,” I said, forcing a smile on my face. It probably came out as more of a grimace. “How are you on this fine, fine day?”

“Hisana, what…what are you doing?” He asked, increasingly bewildered, his words containing a strong undertone of _have you lost your mind._ Inwardly, I admitted that I could see where he was coming from.

In response, I slammed the picture of cat-Yoruichi Kaien had given me down on the table. Both Yoruichi and Byakuya blinked.

“Shiba Kaien…” I said slowly, far past the point where I gave a fuck about anything. Screw manners and image—my dignity was shredded anyway. “Has assigned me a training mission where I am to catch a talking black cat.” Yoruichi abruptly broke out into a coughing fit. “I am 99% sure that he was just fucking with me because first of all? Last time I checked, _cats don’t talk._ Second of all,” I motioned down towards where five cats were currently snacking on the fish I bought. “Every single cat in the Seireitei has been by at least once, and not a _single one_ matched his description. Conclusion? Said cat doesn’t _freaking exist.”_ I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair, fuming.

“Have…have you tried asking people about this cat?” Byakuya asked, a strange expression on his face. I scoffed.

“Nah. I mean, originally I tried catching it the original way,” yeah, for all of twenty seconds, “but black cats aren’t exactly _uncommon,_ you know. And I had no idea where it would be. So I decided if I couldn’t find it, I would try to get it to come to me instead. Fat lot of good that did.”

“What if I could help you?” Yoruichi asked me, having apparently recovered from her coughing fit. Her eyes were dancing with mirth.

“What?” Byakuya started, staring at Yoruichi. “Shihouin-taicho, you--”

“You mean that it’s actually _real?”_ I asked her dubiously.

“You could say that,” she grinned mischievously.

“Could you then?” I stared up at her hopefully with shining, hopeful eyes. According to Kazuki, _no one_ could resist those. “He said that if I managed to complete the mission, he’d talk to his sister about giving me lessons on how to make fireworks.” Byakuya’s eyes widened in alarm. I ignored him in favor of looking at Yoruichi beseechingly. The fireworks were admittedly a large part in why I tried so hard to begin with—from what Kaien had told me, she’d managed to create a firework in the shape of a freaking _dragon,_ complete with fire-spewing abilities. “Plus _,_ something about giving me a…pet pig? Um…” I paused, feeling my cheeks warm slightly as it suddenly hit me just how informally I was speaking to a _captain._ I’d somehow managed to forget that fact in the midst of my annoyance caused by two hours of sitting in the sun, attracting cats of every shape and color and watching various shinigami laugh at me. “I can repay you with tuna? There’s still some left.” I winced, ducking my head. So much for making a good first impression.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d be happy to help. There’s no need to repay me,” Yoruichi said, lips twitching with amusement. “To be fair, you did manage to get your target to come to you. I think such hard work should be rewarded, don’t you Byakuya-bou?”

“Huh?” Was all I managed to get out before there was a small ‘poof’, and standing amidst a pile of Yoruichi’s clothes was the cat I’d been looking for all morning. She meowed and the next thing I knew, she jumped up into my arms and started rubbing her face against some catnip hanging over my shoulder. As I stared at her in wonder (it was one thing to know that human-animal transformations were apparently possible. It was another thing entirely to actually _see_ it), Byakuya palmed his forehead in exasperation.

“That was _amazing,”_ I breathed out, completely awed. Yoruichi purred and sent a smug look over at Byakuya as if to say _see? At least someone here appreciates my awesomeness._ I suddenly hugged her tightly to my chest, a wide grin spreading across my face. “I can’t _wait_ to show Shiba-fukutaicho.”

***

“You did _what?”_ Kaien yelped, before promptly collapsing into laughter. I scowled, and Yoruichi licked my cheek comfortingly. “Oh dear god, Hisana, you just made my week. Seriously—you’re the best thing that’s happened to Soul Society in _decades.”_ He was actually crying tears of mirth now.

“You owe me fireworks. And a pig,” I stated grumpily. Kaien waved me off, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yeah, yeah, got it. A deal’s a deal—besides, you’ve earned it.” He chuckled to himself. “I can’t _wait_ to tell Ukitake-taicho about this. He’ll love this.”

“Don’t you dare,” I glared at him before letting out a moan of despair. “I was supposed to be incognito. No one was supposed to recognize me. Why does fate hate me?”

“I did apologize,” Byakuya muttered.

“How did you know it was me anyway?” I asked sullenly. “I _know_ that my reiatsu was barely detectable, my back was facing you, and my hair was covered with a hood!” For some reason, a light dusting of red colored Byakuya’s pale features and he looked down, refusing to answer. Too preoccupied to give it any more thought, I collapsed into a chair, absent-mindedly petting Yoruichi’s back. “With my luck, half the captains are going to know me as catnip-girl,” I said numbly, horrified realization dawning on me. “I now have no future as a shinigami.”

“There, there, it won’t be so bad. I have to say, although your idea was ingenious—if only in its unexpectedness—I don’t think the Second Division is in your future. Much too conspicuous,” Yoruichi said, her—his?—nose twitching in humor. I smiled wryly.

“You’re probably right. Besides, I’m aiming for the Fourth anyway.”

“Now, I have to know—how _did_ you and Byakuya meet? I’m assuming from the familiar way that you two address each other that you’re the mysterious Rukongai friend he’s always going on about?” Yoruichi questioned, voice practically dripping with curiosity. “Dear Byakuya-bou was most reticent in divulging the details.”

“I want to know too. Details, Yukimura, I want details,” Kaien chimed in. I considered my options for a moment before coming to a decision, shooting Byakuya an apologetic look.

“Ensure that the knowledge of what happened today never leads this room and I’ll tell you. I’ll even throw in the story of how I had to rescue Byakuya from a prostitute the second time we met,” I stated, voice completely serious. Byakuya groaned, dropping his face in his hands in an uncharacteristic display of emotion while Kaien smirked wickedly. Yoruichi’s eyes gleamed.

“Negotiation and the exchange of blackmail—I like the way you think, girl. Who knows? Maybe we’ll make a ninja out of you yet.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Ready for this?” I looked up to see Kaien leaning against the doorway, eying me carefully.

“Yeah.” I said softly, looking back down at the ragged stuffed animal in my hands. One of its button eyes was lopsided—I’d taught Rukia how to sew using this bunny.

“It’s okay to miss her, you know?” Kaien murmured, stepping into the room and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “God knows that I miss my family too whenever I’m on a long mission, even though they drive me crazy sometimes.” I fingered the pineapple keychain next to Rukia’s bunny, currently wrapped in Miwa’s handkerchief.

“It’s just…we’ve never gone so long with so little contact. I don’t even know how she’s doing, how they’re all doing. I’ve always been the one to look after everyone, you know? The one who makes sure Rukia doesn’t do stupid shit like deciding to go swimming right after rain season, the one who makes sure Renji eats all his vegetables and doesn’t ‘accidentally’ drop all of them on the floor, the one Miwa goes to whenever she comes up with a new remedy and…and…and who’s going to do all that if I’m not there?” I hiccupped, glaring at the floor as my eyes started stinging, willing myself not to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m being ungrateful. There are so many people who’d literally kill to be in my position and don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely try my best during the test but I…” I’d rather be back in Inuzuri, surrounded by Mitsuo’s reassuring presence, Kaori’s dry humor mingled with Kazuki’s cheerful one, Miwa’s soft smile and Renji’s annoying pranks and Rukia’s bright, happy laugh—

“Hey. It’ll be okay. It’s a big transition—you’ve had to deal with a lot of life-changing events in a relatively short amount of time. I’d be surprised if you _weren’t_ feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Kaien said comfortingly.

“I feel so _lonely,_ Kaien,” I whispered, addressing him by his first name for the first time. “And it’s ridiculous because I’m always surrounded by people and I have lunch with Unohana-taicho once a week and I have you, and Eiji and Hiro have been spending almost all their time—time that they’re supposed to be on leave—helping me train for this test and I have more baked goods than I know what to do with from Chiyo and Shihouin-taicho dragged me shopping just the other day and Byakuya’s the best friend _anyone_ could ask for but they’re not…they’re not...”

“There’re not family,” Kaien finished quietly. He knelt down next to me and placed an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “And family’s different. I know. Believe me, I know.”

***

“Holy shit,” I whispered as I took in the size of the lecture hall where the Academy exam was to take place. The place could probably fit a thousand people easily. I hadn’t been in a building this big since…well, since going to undergrad as Christina, literally a lifetime ago. I glanced around, estimating that there were currently about six to seven hundred people in it. Due to the size of the applicant pool—roughly two thousand souls, sheesh— we’d been divided into Groups 1, 2 and 3. I was in the second group—we were to complete the writing portion first before moving on to reiatsu and physical portions.

“I know. Impressive, isn’t it?” I looked to my side to find a boy with mousy brown hair and round eyeglasses grinning at me. “You’re Rukongai, am I right?”

“Yes,” I said with a small smile. “Is it that obvious?”

He laughed. “You were doing good until you walked in. Then the wide eyes and open mouth kinda gave you away.” He gave me a considering look. “This your first time?” At my nod, he added, “Don’t worry, I’m from the Rukongai too. I’m Shibuya Mizuki, by the way. Second district, West Rukongai. You?”

“Yukimura Hisana. Seventy-eighth district, South Rukongai,” I answered. He whistled, looking faintly impressed. “Wow. You came a long way, huh? Must be pretty confident that you’ll make it.” I shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

 “I think I have a decent chance. I mean, a fifth of the applicants make it, don’t they?” According to Kaien, at least. Of that twenty percent, the top 5 percent went on to the First Class.

At my words, Mizuki snorted derisively. “Sure. That’s what they tell you.” At my confused look, he sighed. “Look Yukimura, you’re new, so you don’t know. They tell you that everyone has an equal chance at getting in, that everyone is judged on the same three categories—reiatsu level and control, writing skill, and physical strength. But what they don’t tell you is that there’s a fourth category, and that’s who you know. Look around you,” he made a sweeping motion behind him. “I’d say that the majority of these applicants are from the Rukongai. Makes sense, ya know? The Rukongai makes up most of Soul Society, and we got more reason than anyone else to want to become shinigami. Yet every year, over eighty percent of the accepted applicants are nobles, or are related to a shinigami in some way.”

A small sneer crossed his face. “You can almost guess who’ll pass already, just based on which ones have the biggest sticks up their asses. See?” He nodded towards a black-haired man with delicate features dressed in an expensive-looking kimono. “Don’t look like much, does he? A hundred kan says that he’ll pass just ‘cause mommy and daddy’ll pull some strings to stop their precious son from failing.”

“And yet you’re still here. In spite of their nepotism-based selection process,” I said dryly. He beamed proudly.

“Fourth time! Screw them. I won’t let ‘em beat me. I figure if I keep trying, they’ve got to accept me sometime, right?” He nudged my shoulder lightly. “Don’t get me wrong, Yukimura. I’m not telling you to give up. I ain’t no hypocrite. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much either, yeah?” He motioned for me to follow him. “C’mon, let’s go find seats.”

“So, what made you decide to become a shinigami?” Mizuki asked once we both sat down. I fiddled with the ink pen in front of me.

“I decided that my skills could be of better use here,” I answered.

“Nice, a very diplomatic answer,” Mizuki applauded me. “Answering the question without really saying anything at all. Add in a few more words like ‘nepotism’ and maybe you’ll pass after all.”

“Thanks,” I said wryly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” Mizuki assured me, winking. “I’m ‘fraid my answer ain’t nearly so mysterious as yours. I just wanna get rich and be able to swing a kickass sword around.”

“Fair enough,” I said, returning his smile. His face brightened in response and he shifted closer to me.

“Hey Yukimura, I was thinking, maybe after the test d’you maybe wanna catch di--”

Before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by an abrupt flaring of reiatsu at the front of the room. Instinctively straightening up in my seat, I turned my attention to the stern looking man at the podium. Dark-skinned and intensely muscular, he commanded respect without trying.

“Now that I have your attention,” he stated in a booming voice, “Welcome, prospective students of Shin’ou Academy. My name is Onabara Gengoro and I am the Chief Instructor of Class 1. Today, you are all here for one reason, and one reason only. That is, to see if you have what it takes to become shinigami. Today’s exam consists of three parts! A two hour writing exam, a one hour reiatsu testing portion and finally, a four hour physical exam. Only the applicants scoring in the top twentieth percentile will be selected—of the many people in this hall right now, you will never see many of them again. The results of the exam will be posted in three days. Your written applications are under your seats and you may begin them when the clock strikes nine.” I reached under my chair and resisted the urge to sigh despairingly at the half-inch thick paper packet in my hands. “May only the best succeed. Good luck.”

I looked down at the first question. _Describe the Gotei 13’s main duties and how they are essential in maintaining the balance of souls._ I skimmed the packet quickly, pausing briefly on question number eight— _Expand on three reasons why it is always important to listen to your commanding officer in battle._ Rubbing my head, I resisted the urge to snort. Kaien was right—the written application was a joke, meant only to gauge whether we were the obedient, ask-no-questions soldiers the Gotei 13 wanted us to be. Still, at least I could make a very decent guess as to the responses the administrators were looking for…with a heavy sigh, I drew on the much-underrated skill of completely bullshitting a response while still making it sound sincere a.k.a. the only skill I managed to retain from high school.

***

“Time’s up.” Onabara barked gruffly just as I finished the last question— _why do you want to be a shinigami—_ waxing poetic for half a page about how I wanted to be a protector of innocents and how important maintaining the balance of souls and keeping order in the world was and how shinigami were harbingers of peace and justice, yadda, yadda, yadda.

“God, I’m glad that’s over,” Mizuki said from next to me, stretching his arms and yawning. “What a load of bull, huh, Yukimura?”

“Was it the same test as the last one you took?” I asked curiously.

“Pretty much,” he grinned. “Sure hope I pass this time. I never wanna see that test again. This next part’s a lot more interesting though,” Mizuki said, perking up.

“Oh?” I asked curiously.

“Yeah. It’s where they test your reiatsu level and control. _Super_ cool stuff,” Mizuki stated confidently. “Really easy too. You’ll love it.”

***

“Um…” I said blankly, staring at the tiny glass orb in my hand before glancing around at the curtained station I was in. It felt almost exactly like that one time I got my fortune read at a Halloween party, except the ‘crystal ball’ this time was a lot smaller and, well, black.

“Well, go on,” the proctor said impatiently. “We don’t have all day.”

“So I just…channel my reiatsu into here?” I asked, peering uncertainly at the black mist swirling inside the orb “What’s that supposed to do?”

“It’ll change color depending on how much spiritual pressure you have. Not to worry, it’s perfectly harmless,” the proctor said. When I still didn’t do anything, he sighed heavily. “Look, black means that there’s no spiritual energy being channeled into it, all right? Red is the maximum it can reach, which is about the level of a lieutenant, maybe a little under. You don’t have to worry about that—the only people who have even come close to reaching red on an Academy entrance exam in the past couple of centuries are Shiba Kaien and Ichimaru Gin…I suppose Zaraki Kenpachi as well, but shattering the glass just by touching it doesn’t count,” he muttered the last part under his breath. “Your average Rukongai soul will be either black or a dark purple. Typically, new Academy students range between indigo and a medium blue. Happy now?”  The proctor asked sarcastically.

“Very. Thank you for explaining,” I said, taking a deep breath before channeling spiritual energy from my core down my arms, into my hands, infusing the glass sphere with as much of my energy as I could. As I did so, I could feel the glass gently warm up, the sphere quickly turning from black to purple, purple to blue, before finally settling on a gentle green glow that reflected light off the curtained walls. It was a lovely light green, the color of freshly budding leaves, with the occasional fleck of gold shining through.

“6.2,” the proctor said, eying a color scale on the wall. He raised a faintly impressed eyebrow. “Not bad. Not bad at all. You got some experience using reiatsu?”

“You could say that,” I said, cutting off my reiatsu flow and watching as the orb slowly faded back to black. I had been using my reiatsu regularly for the past sixty years or so after all.

“Well, I’d say that you currently have the reiatsu of a lower to mid-ranked seated officer,” he said, making a note on his chart before motioning me forward to a rectangular tower with ten lights spread out in evenly-spaced intervals. To be honest, it kind of reminded me of one of those ‘Test-your-strength’ circus games, just without the hammer. “You put your dominant hand here,” the proctor demonstrated, putting his hand on a hand-shaped groove on the side of the tower. “Then you channel reiatsu until each light starts shining. As you progress, each light will require exponentially more reiatsu control to light up. Like this.” I could sense him channeling reiatsu into his right hand and sure enough, the lights started turning on one by one. This continued until he hit the eighth light or so, which flickered before going out completely.

“See? Easy,” he said, stepping back and motioning for me to go forward. I complied, stepping forward and placing my hand where his just was.

Inhaling deeply, I slowly channeled my reiatsu into the machine until the first light went on. From what I could tell, there was a fairly sizable range for the first light, and as long as you maintained your reiatsu level somewhere within that range, it would light up. The second through fifth lights also lit up without issue, although the range in which I had to keep my reiatsu at got smaller for each one. For the sixth and seventh, I increased my reiatsu output before slowly lowering it until it reached the desired amount. For the eighth light, I allowed my reiatsu to fluctuate slightly to get an idea of how much spiritual energy was needed before painstakingly increasing my energy output drop by drop until the eighth light started shining brightly. By this time, I was starting to get tired. While the amount of reiatsu the machine required was relatively low, it was…mentally draining to input such a steady flow of spiritual energy into it.

A bead of sweat trickled down my face as I glared at the flickering ninth light. I knew how much energy was needed for the stupid thing to light up, but trying to keep my reiatsu levels so steady was like…god, it was like trying to pour water from a bucket into a tiny bottle without spilling a drop. A tiny trickle more…a drop less…and there! It wavered before finally stabilizing.

For a moment, I just stared at the final light, taking a few moments to calm myself.

“Uh…you know you don’t have to get all ten lights, right? Hardly anyone does. You’ve already passed—you only had to get up to six,” the proctor said hesitantly from behind me.

“No. I—I’d like to try. Please,” I said, taking a deep breath before decreasing my reiatsu by the slightest amount. The tenth light didn’t even flicker and the ninth light dimmed for an instant. Wrong direction then. After carefully increasing my reiatsu output until it reached its previous level, I closed my eyes, visualizing the tiny paper cut I’d healed this morning. The amount of energy it took to repair seal up the smallest sort of cut…no, the amount of energy it took to regrow a mere five or six epithelial cells…I opened my eyes and let out a breath of relief at the sight of the tenth light glowing back at me.

Letting my hand fall from the device, I turned to face the proctor. “So. Did I pass?” I asked brightly.

***

“Hey! I see that you made it.” I turned around at the sound of Mizuki’s voice.

“Shibuya-san. It’s good to see you again,” I said warmly.

“The glowy-orb thing was cool, wasn’t it?” He asked enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I smiled hesitantly at him as he squeezed tightly.

“It was…interesting, I guess.” I hadn’t been sure what to expect when we’d been told to walk outside after the written exam and to line up in front of one of the fifty or so purple tents set up near the Academy entrance, but I suppose as exams went, a wannabe fortune-teller set-up wasn’t too bad. Far better than the written application, at least.

“You’re a hard one to impress, aren’t you?” Mizuki said, amused. “So what color did you get? I got a dark blue—though I think it was a bit lighter than last year’s, so I’ll count that as a win.”

“Green,” I shrugged a bit awkwardly. “I’ve been training my reiatsu for a long time though.” Mizuki’s eyes widened and he let out an impressed whistle. “Huh. I thought only the nobles scored that high,” he said. “Maybe you have a decent chance after all. Keep this up and even the stuffy old geezers in charge won’t be able to deny you a place.”

“Thanks. I can only hope,” I said, moving towards where the head proctor was instructing people to split up into even groups—one for each part of the physical exam. “So which group do you want to join?” I asked.

“Uh…” For the first time, Mizuki’s ever-present confidence slipped a fraction. “I guess the two mile run. Get it over with, and all that.”

“What’s wrong? You nervous?” I teased lightly as we joined the group headed towards the edge of the school grounds, where the two mile run would be taking place. We were the smallest group—there were roughly one hundred people around us.

“You could say that. It’s where I failed the past few times,” he said, smile becoming strained for a second before brightening again. “I’ve been training though. I’ll definitely get through it this time!”

“We can run together. That is, if you’re sure you can keep up,” I challenged, keeping part of my attention on the proctor as he explained the rules. The path we were supposed to take was a wide trail around the Academy that ran through some nearby woods for part of the way. If someone didn’t finish under fifteen minutes, they would automatically fail the exam, although beating the minimum time limit didn’t necessarily guarantee you a spot either. The faster you ran, the better your chances were. Since there were so many people, we split up into five groups of roughly twenty people each. Mizuki and I were in the group running first.

“Of course,” Mizuki smirked at me, although his bravado didn’t match his previous confidence. “With those toothpick legs? You won’t stand a chance, pipsqueak.” I scowled instinctively.

“Says the person who’s the same height as me. What does that make you then?” I grumbled, reaching down to stretch my legs briefly. A quick wave of healing reiatsu—small enough that it was undetectable to the public eye—was enough to relax my leg muscles. “Better run fast or I’ll leave you in the dust.”

“Ha! Like you could, Yukimura. You’re on,” he grinned, crouching down.

“If you’re running, step up. The rest of you, wait over there,” the proctor barked. I took my place at the starting line next to a tall nervous-looking silver haired girl, with Mizuki on my other side. “You have fifteen minutes, everyone. Better make it to the finishing line before then.” He looked down at his watch. “Three…two…one aaand go!”

There was a mad scramble as half the people immediately took off in a mad sprint. I set off at a quick run, carefully regulating my breathing. While I was determined to do well, there was no need to exhaust myself so early in the exam.

“Look—who’s—behind—now,” Mizuki panted out between heavy breaths after roughly a minute or so. I rolled my eyes, easily increasing my speed until I caught up with him. Perhaps the best thing about being technically ‘dead’ was that I was no longer limited by the constraints of a physical human body. I’d never be able to maintain this level of speed otherwise.

“Uh huh. Keep that up and then we’ll talk,” I said, eying the distant tree line in front of us. We’d probably be reaching the forest in around five minutes at our current speed. “Stop running so fast. You should conserve your strength,” I added, eying Mizuki’s red face with some concern. “We have plenty of time.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “Not—if we—wanna get in,” he wheezed. “Gotta—gotta do better than all those—noble—bastards.” Mizuki shot me a tired smile. “Bet—bet that once we—reach—the trees, I’ll get through the forest—before—before you.”

“This isn’t a race, idiot,” I scolded. “But fine. Only if you stop talking though. It wastes energy.” As we reached the trees, I took a moment to catch my breath. I wasn’t doing too badly by my estimation, although my breathing was a bit strained by this point. Still, we were probably halfway done already—I estimated that if I could keep this up, we’d probably finish around the eleven-minute mark or so.

“Tired already, Yukimura?” Mizuki taunted, sprinting ahead of me. “I’ll—definitely win—at this rate.”

“You wish.” Straightening up, I increased my speed until I was jogging alongside him. Panting a bit for breath now—we were currently on an upward slope—I pointed ahead to where the trees were thinning out. “We’re almost—ah—there. Less than a quarter to go,” I gasped out. In answer, Mizuki simply nodded before sprinting ahead. I was just about to follow when he suddenly staggered, clutching at his chest and doubled over coughing.

“No—no, this can’t—this can’t be happening,” he wheezed out between dry coughs. “No…nonono…” His voice trailed off as he gasped for air, breaths becoming increasingly quick and panicked.

“Shibuya-san?” I asked urgently as he fell to his knees.

“Can’t—breathe. You—go,” he rasped, frantically motioning me away before slumping over, grasping his throat with his hands.

“ _Fuck,”_ I cursed, gently moving him so that his back rested against a nearby tree trunk. I eyed the way his lips were now turning a faint shade of blue with more than a little worry. “Why didn’t you say you had asthma, you idiot?” I muttered. Who the fuck undergoes a physically challenging exam _four times_ when they _knew_ they had trouble breathing at times? And then challenges someone to a _fucking race_ in the middle of said exam just to show off?

Biting my lip angrily, I put my hands—already glowing green—on his chest. To be honest, I was more frustrated at myself. Some healer I was—couldn’t even identify the beginning signs of an asthma attack when it was right in front of me.

The sound of footsteps pausing right in front of me made me look up from where I was channeling my reiatsu through his chest and into his airways.

“Is—is he going to be okay?” The tall silver-haired girl—I vaguely recognized her as the girl who’d been next to me at the starting line—asked timidly.

“I think so. Still, he needs medical attention right now,” I answered briskly, turning my focus back to reducing the inflammation of his bronchial tubes and halting the overproduction of the mucus that was currently coating his airways. Figured that I’d be the only source of ‘medical attention’ around. “You should go. The exam’s still going on.”

She nodded before standing back up. “Don’t worry—I’ll go get help,” she promised before straightening up and running off at a dead sprint.

“It was dumb of me to try again,” Mizuki said quietly. A few other people ran past us, briefly glancing at us but not bothering to stop. “It’s just…I haven’t had an attack in months. And it’s usually not so bad—I thought if I could just run fast enough…get it over with soon enough…”

“Quit talking, dumbass,” I said, instructing my reiatsu to finish relaxing the muscles in his airways. A corner of his mouth tilted up and he reached forward to push my hands away. “You should go,” he offered me a weak smile. “There’s still some time left, I think. Maybe you can still make it.” 

The telltale swooshing sound of shunpo made us both look up to see an unfamiliar proctor standing in front of us. “He’s right. You have over a quarter mile to go, and a bit under a minute left. It’ll be hard, but you should still try to finish the exam. Don’t worry—I’ll get someone from the Fourth to look at him.”

“Fine.” I said standing up, before glaring at Mizuki. “Take it easy, you hear? Wanting to become a shinigami is all fine and good, but it’s no use if you kill yourself trying.” He offered me a weak salute.

“Sure, sure, got it. You better run fast, Yukimura. So that one of us will have a chance, at least.”

***

“Yukimura Hisana,” I mustered the effort to mutter out after half-sprinting, half-stumbling over the finish line.

“14:58—cutting it a bit close there, aren’t you?” The heavyweight proctor sneered at me, marking down my time next to my name. Too tired to care, I made my way over to a relatively secluded spot by a cluster of trees before my legs gave out. In retrospect, flooding my entire body with spiritual energy probably hadn’t been the smartest idea. It had worked—my body had broken down waste products at an incredible rate while cellular respiration had sped up in nearly every cell—but the cost was that I’d expended way more reiatsu than was probably wise by sacrificing finesse and control for speed. That wasn’t even going into the strain it’d placed on my muscles…I bit my lip as another wave of fiery hot agony swept through my legs and directed what little energy I had left to begin repairing torn ligaments and damaged tendons. Still, considering that it had saved my ass from automatic failure, I considered it energy well spent.

“You made it!” For a second, I tried tilting my head up to identify the speaker, but gave it up as a wasted effort when the furthest my gaze could reach at the moment was the speaker’s stomach.

“Too tall,” I mumbled tiredly.

“Ah! I’m sorry,” the speaker said a bit awkwardly before bending down so that her face was right in front of mine. It was the silver-haired girl from before, looking at me with a mixture of genuine happiness and worry. “Here.” She thrust a water bottle at my face.

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, rolling over so that my head was off the ground and promptly downing half the water bottle in a matter of seconds. “For this, and for before too. You were the only one who stopped, you know?”

“It’s no problem. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more—although it seemed like you had things under control,” she said shyly. “It’s great that you can do healing kido already. And I just wanted to say…what you did for that boy was really kind. You could’ve lost your own chance at passing the exam by stopping to help him.”

“I was the only one nearby who could help,” I said shrugging. “And passing isn’t worth a kid choking half to death, you know?”

“Still, that was an amazing thing to do,” she said, holding out a hand to help me up. “I’m Isane, by the way. Kotetsu Isane. But you can call me Isane—I have a lot of siblings,” she explained, flushing slightly. “So I’m used to people calling me by my first name in order to avoid confusion.”

“Yukimura Hisana,” I said, mustering up a friendly smile. I peered a bit closer at her face. Now that I thought about it, her features looked familiar, somehow…which probably meant that she was somewhat important in canon-Bleach. A third seat or a lieutenant, maybe? I mentally set that thought aside to consider later as fat-proctor started yelling at people to partner up for the push-up and sit-up portions while we waited for the remaining groups to finish. Well, since Shibuya was gone…

“Um…the next part requires a partner, and I don’t have one yet, so I was wondering…” Isane began, apparently having the same thought as me. “I mean, you don’t have to, but…” She wrung her hands together nervously, before taking a deep breath. “Want to be partners, Yukimura-san?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” I said, pulling myself up from the ground with an effort. Thankfully I still had some time to recover before the next portion. Pretending to ignore the way Isane’s shoulders had slumped with relief, I made my way over to where the first people from the second group were just finishing their run. “And call me Hisana, Isane-san. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

***

“So do you think you’re going to pass?” Isane asked anxiously several hours later as we walked out the Academy doors together, after the test had _finally_ finished. Luckily, the time spent waiting for everyone to finish had given me plenty of time to recover, so the remaining physical portions had passed relatively smoothly. “I mean, I _think_ I did okay, I did pretty well on the reiatsu portions but my writing’s not so great and…and no one in my family has ever become a shinigami before, although one of my sisters will be applying in a year or so, and I almost didn’t make the rock-climbing section--”

“And I almost didn’t make the two mile run. Relax, Isane-san,” I said in my most reassuring voice. “Besides, I’d say that a quarter of the applicants have been eliminated already, so both of us have a pretty decent ch—HOLY SHIT!” I yelped as eight pounds of black, furry _something_ bowled into me, knocking me flat on my back. Looking up, I barely resisted the urge to sigh as I found myself staring at a very familiar cat sitting on my chest, licking one paw smugly. Figures.

“Um, Hisana-san?” Isane asked hesitantly, looking as if she was debating whether or not to help.

“It’s okay,” I reassured her before turning my attention back to Yoruichi. “Shihouin-taicho, that was mean.” Isane’s mouth fell open and she gaped at Yoruichi.

“S-Shihouin? T-taicho?” She muttered, abruptly paling.

“If you knew shunpo, you might have been able to dodge,” Yoruichi stated primly, stepping off my chest with enviable grace. I scoffed, sitting up and brushing my shirt off.

“Uh huh, right. _Byakuya_ still can’t dodge you. What makes you think I could?” I grumbled.

“I don’t, but it would quadruple your chances at least,” Yoruichi flashed me a grin. On her current form, the humanlike expression looked more than a little disturbing.

“Four times zero is still zero,” I retorted. After spending the past couple of days dealing with her surprise attacks (“I’m preparing you for ambushes! You should be thanking me!”), I’d lost a great deal of my initial reverent awe towards her. Apparently she’d heard of my prejudice against learning shunpo and was now using every opportunity to demonstrate why it was the “most useful skill a shinigami could ever learn”. I was going to _kill_ Kaien.

“Don’t you have better things to do than scare the shit out of me on a daily basis? You’re a captain. I hear that has responsibilities,” I snarked.

“But it’s oh so entertaining,” Yoruichi pouted. “And you make the funniest expressions. And since Byakuya-bou got used to me decades ago, you’re the next best choice.”

“I’m honored.” My voice was probably drier than the desert at this point.

“Now you understand my pain,” another familiar voice spoke up. An involuntary smile spread across my face.

“Byakuya!” I said, jumping up and turning to face him. “You came! I thought you were working today.” A small smile lit his features.

“I finished early,” he replied, voice warm. “How was the exam?” I made a face.

“About as fun as that time Shiba-fukutaicho had Hiro and Eiji shoot minor kido spells at me while I was running in order to ‘motivate’ me,” I muttered before brightening up again. “At least I got a new friend out of it though.” I turned to face Isane only to find her staring at Byakuya and Yoruichi with widened eyes, her face dead white.

“This here is Kotetsu Isane,” I said. “Isane-san, this is Kuchiki Byakuya, lieutenant of the Sixth Division. The annoying cat is Shihouin Yoruichi, captain of the Second Division.” My eye twitched as Yoruichi leapt onto my shoulders before casually making herself at home sitting on my head. “And resident menace to society.”

“I had no idea you thought so highly of me, Hisana-chan,” Yoruichi teased. I twitched again at the honorific. She flicked her tail in acknowledgement at Isane, giving her a regal nod. “Nice to meet you, Kotetsu.”

Isane nodded wordlessly, looking like she was torn between wanting to run away and wishing the ground would swallow her whole. I sympathized, remembering what it felt like meeting a captain for the first time. Terrifying didn’t even begin to cover it.

“N-nice to m-meet you too, Shihouin-taicho! Kuchiki-fukutaicho!” Isane finally managed to squeak out, voice high before slipping into a deep bow. “I-it’s an honor! Really!”

“Pleasure,” Byakuya said coolly, inclining his head forward a fraction of a degree. I shot him a glare. _Be nice._ He seemed to internally sigh with resignation before adding a stilted “I hope your exam went well, Kotetsu Isane?”

“Um…it w-went okay, I guess,” Isane stuttered out, voice small. She refused to meet his eyes. “I, uh, actually have to go…Kiyone’s waiting for me, she’ll be wondering how I did. Hisana-san, I’ll see you later?” She addressed the last part to me before quickly walking off. It looked like she was barely restraining herself from breaking out into a run.

I stared after her in bewilderment before turning around to study Byakuya carefully. “Are you really that scary?” I questioned, tilting my head to the side. Isane had seemed almost more terrified of Byakuya than she was of Yoruichi, although that may have had something to do with the fact that Yoruichi was currently a cat. I honestly didn’t understand her intimidation—maybe if I squinted…yeah, nope. “I don’t see it.”

I heard Yoruichi huff with amusement from where she was still perched on my head. “Yes, well, you’ve always been a special case. Don’t you agree, Byakuya-bou?” I couldn’t see Yoruichi’s expression, but Byakuya’s glare at the moment could probably freeze nitrogen.

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Shihouin-taicho,” he said icily. Yoruichi’s tail brushed against my shoulder and she jumped back to the ground, sending Byakuya a distinctively amused smirk. I was missing something here.

“Oh, calm down Byakuya-bou, I wasn’t implying anything. But even you have to admit that you’ve treated Hisana…differently, from the start.”

Byakuya’s expression turned positively frosty but before he could say anything, my stomach let out a loud gurgle. I could feel my face slowly heating up as both Byakuya and Yoruichi turned to stare at me with identical raised eyebrows. Must be a noble thing, I decided.

“It’s not my fault! I haven’t eaten anything in like eight hours!” I said defensively. Thank god I hadn’t had to do the written exam last, otherwise there probably would have been some strange noises in the lecture hall.

“You don’t need to apologize for being hungry,” Byakuya said, though the corner of his lips curved up by the slightest amount. “Although that reminds me. We should be going—I believe that we are due to eat dinner at the Shiba clan compound?”

“You’re right, Byakuya-bou,” Yoruichi said before a mischievous glint entered her eyes. I was immediately wary. “But it’s all the way on the other side of Seireitei and Kukaku is expecting us in fifteen minutes. It’d really be so much easier if…well, we don’t want to be late, do we? That would just be plain rude.” I caught on as both Yoruichi and Byakuya turned to look at me speculatively.

“Oh, no.” I said immediately, stepping back and making warding off motions with my arms. “I am _not_ going through that again. Once was bad enough. No, no, no, you are not getting anywhere near me--”

“Byakuya, would you care to do the honors?” Yoruichi asked. “I would carry her myself, but in my current form it’d be quite inconvenient…and I don’t have any spare clothes on me right now…”

I looked towards Byakuya desperately. “We’re friends, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, right?” I asked pleadingly. He winced.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he promised. The next thing I knew, I was held securely against his chest, one arm around my back holding me close and the other under my knees. The familiar smell of sandalwood mixed with ink and tea surrounded me and I could feel his heartbeat thudding steadily against my ear. Burying my face in his chest so that he couldn’t see my reddened cheeks, I muttered, “I swear to god, if you drop me I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you for all eternity.”

Byakuya chuckled, chest vibrating slightly from his laughter. “All eternity, huh? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

***

Several minutes later, I pushed down the wave of nausea that rose within me and tentatively opened one eye. “Has the world stopped spinning yet?”

In front of me, Yoruichi—in human form again and fully clothed—shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with such a bad reaction to shunpo. That was Byakuya going _slow._ I was able to get here and go change by the time you two got here.”

“Yes, well, I like walking. Going at a non-insane speed. Being able to enjoy the world around me,” I retorted as Byakuya gently set me back on my feet. “Not having to worry about running into a brick wall or something.”

“I would never run into a brick wall,” Byakuya protested, looking mildly offended before automatically reaching out to steady me as I took a wobbly step and almost fell over.

“Uh huh. That’s what Shiba-fukutaicho said right before he almost lost his head by running into a tree,” I grumbled, thinking back to my first experience with shunpo.

_“Look out for that tree!” I shrieked, digging my nails into Kaien’s arm. “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, tell my sister that I love her--”_

_“Relax, kiddo,” Kaien grinned down at me. “I’m a pro at this. Hell, I bet you I could do this with my eyes clos—fuck!” he cursed as an owl swooped down in front of him, almost making him collide headfirst into a tree branch. He swerved nauseatingly to the side, avoiding it by a nanosecond as my voice went up another octave._

I shuddered, remembering the way my life had flashed before my eyes.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad. I had things perfectly under control,” Kaien complained as he walked out of the weirdest looking house I’d ever seen. “Besides, I don’t see why _you’re_ the victim here. _I’m_ the one who almost had my eardrums shattered by your screaming.”

“You almost dropped me! Twice!” I said indignantly, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at him. “ _What?”_ Byakuya demanded, eyes narrowing.

“Well, your expressions were just so entertaining…joking! I was just joking!” Kaien put his hands up in surrender as Byakuya’s reiatsu swirled ominously. “What kind of guy do you take me for, anyway? A jerk who would pretend to drop a helpless girl for his own amusement?”

“He wouldn’t be wrong,” a new voice chimed in dryly. “Nii-san, stop being an idiot.”

“Ah imouto, you wound me,” Kaien said dramatically. I turned to see a black haired girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to Kaien step forward with a deadpan expression.

“Kukaku,” Yoruichi said smiling, stepping forward and giving her a hug. “Haven’t seen you for a while. I see that you’ve changed your house design again.” We all turned to look at the giant snowman statue standing on one side of the main house.

 Kukaku grunted, a faint smile curving her lips. “Hn. Changed it just last week, actually. I’m protesting summer.” I blinked in bemusement. “What do you think?”

“You should build another one,” I blurted out before flushing slightly as Kukaku turned to face me, expression unreadable. One of Yoruichi’s eyebrows shot up. “On the other side of the house. So…so it doesn’t get lonely,” I added, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “It’ll add symmetry too, if you build it a twin. There’s a certain kind of beauty in balance, you know? Right now it seems a little lopsided. Uh…that’s just what I think, anyway,” I finished off lamely. Kukaku stared at me for a moment longer before turning to eye the statue critically.

“Huh. You may be right,” she said finally, tilting her head to the side. “Plus, if I add another one, I can maybe have them hold a banner over the house. Add some pizzazz.” Behind her, Kaien groaned.

“You just had to encourage her, didn’t you Yukimura?” He muttered.

“Shut up, nii-san,” Kukaku said sharply, cutting off her brother with a sharp glare. I blinked again— _Kaien_ was supposed to be clan head here? “She obviously has taste, unlike _some_ people here.” She gave me a sharp nod.

“Shiba Kukaku. Nice to meet you.”

“Yukimura Hisana. So you’re Soul Society’s top fireworks and explosives expert?” I asked. A glint of pride entered her eyes.

 “That’s right. You won’t find someone who knows more about pyrotechnics than me.” She eyed me shrewdly. “And you’re the one Kaien agreed to give lessons to on how to make fireworks, huh? Well, if he has some branch house member teach you a few tricks, that’s his business. I won’t interfere. But if you want to learn from _me,_ well,” Kukaku pursed her lips. “Nii-san seems pretty taken with you, so I’ll give you a chance. But you’re gonna have to impress me. And trust me, kid, that’s not an easy thing to do.”

I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the way Byakuya let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh? Try me,” I challenged. She grinned, folding her arms over her chest. “We’ll start after dinner.”

***

“Had enuff?” Kukaku asked, voice slurred. “You should givvup. Imma Shiba. _No one_ outdrinks a Shiba.”

 “Y’wish,” I mumbled out, reaching out towards the closest sake bottle and frowned when my fingers hit nothing but air. Yoruichi helpfully nudged it into my hand and I gave her a nod of thanks. At least I hoped I did—it was getting a bit difficult to distinguish features so I’d just nodded towards the blurry purple blob and hoped for the best. “Keep ‘em comin’. I’m no’ f—finish—done yet!” With that declaration, I tipped the bottle over my saucer and frowned in betrayal when nothing came out.

“Nee-san? She looks like she’s gonna fall over,” a childish voice whispered. My frown deepened.

“I thought he wash upstairs,” I said, making a concentrated effort to enunciate each syllable. Turning towards Kaien’s younger sibling—cute kid, nothing like his asshole of a brother—I added, “Ganju-kun, you shood—you should be in bed. Go to sleep, okay? It’s late.”

“Good lord, even when completely wasted, she’s still a mother hen,” Yoruichi muttered.

“I’ll have someone send him upstairs,” Kaien said, motioning towards a servant. In the meantime, Kukaku poured herself another glass of sake.

“Cheers,” she toasted me, arm shaking slightly. I peered blearily over her shoulder to check if Ganju had left—he really was adorable, kept going on and on about how he was looking forward to raising his own pig in a few years and how he was going to name it Bonnie at dinner—before reaching out and grabbing another sake bottle. “Mmm yeah. This’s good stuff, right here.”

“It should be—that’s the stuff Kyoraku gave me two years ago,” Kaien complained. He stared at the many empty bottles in front of us mournfully. “And now it’s all gone.”

“Shoulda hid it bedder then, nii-san,” Kukaku said smugly before pointing at me triumphantly as I swayed heavily, almost falling over. “Ha! See, you’re done for.”

“Shaddup,” I glared at her. Why were there three of her, now? I focused on the middle one. “Beesides, you’re cheating. There’re tree—no, free— _three_ of you. S’not fair.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Byakuya spoke up suddenly. I clung to my sake bottle stubbornly as he tried to pull it from me.

“Nooooo I don’t wanna.” I hugged the bottle to my chest protectively. “I ain’t no quitter.”

“Listen to reason, Hisana,” he cajoled. “You’ll be in no shape to meet with Unohana-taicho tomorrow if you keep this up.”

“Nuh uh. I’ll be fine. You jus’ wait,” I sniffed, tilting my nose up.

“You’re going to kill yourself through alcohol poisoning,” Byakuya tried.

“No’m not. This ain’t _nuthin’,”_ I said proudly before doubling over and clutching at my stomach as a sudden wave of nausea passed through me. “I feel sick.”

“Me too,” Kukaku agreed, looking more than a bit green. “Draw?”

“Draw,” I agreed before both of us sprinted for the bathroom at the same time. I got to it first, but only because Kukaku tried to use shunpo and promptly ran into a wall. As I knelt over the toilet bowl vomiting up the contents of my stomach, some part of me felt vindicated at that.

***

“I told you,” Byakuya said the next morning without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. “I warned you, didn’t I? This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m an over-competitive idiot who can never refuse a challenge. Still, a little compassion would be appreciated,” I said half-heartedly from where my head was enveloped in my arms. The pounding inside my head intensified and I let out a low moan. Another problem with my version of healing kido was that it was…difficult to use effectively in circumstances where I didn’t have a clear state of mind. In other words, when I was in any kind of drugged state, suffering from severe pain, experiencing extreme emotional distress or suffering from a head injury.

 _This will pass,_ I thought to myself gloomily. _Curing a headache isn’t worth accidentally giving yourself a brain tumor or something. You can’t even open your eyes right now without suffering blinding pain._

I heard Byakuya sigh and then the scrape of a chair before there was a tentative pressure against both sides of my forehead. “Wha--” I began before exhaling in relief as a numbing coolness began to spread from where he was gently rubbing circles into my temples, dulling the pain until I could think coherently again.

“You know healing kido!” I couldn’t quite hide the note of surprise in my voice.

“Mm. Only a little bit. Enough to reduce the inflammation in your blood vessels and numb the pain a little. Your reiatsu levels are still a bit low—that’s why your recovery has been slower than usual,” Byakuya replied. “I’m still learning, but I figured I should have at least a basic understanding of it.”

“What brought this on?” I asked curiously. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that you know a bit of healing kido. Everyone should in my opinion, and it’s just plain stupid that it’s only an elective course at the Academy. It’s just…you’ve never taken much of an interest in learning it before.” He was silent for a moment.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always taken care of me when I was injured, offered me help when I needed it,” Byakuya said softly. “Even when you didn’t know who I was. And now…in a few short years, you’ll be a shinigami and going on missions and that’s…that’s…” Byakuya let his hands fall to his sides, fingers curling into fists before relaxing again. Frowning, I tilted my head up to see him clenching his jaw, grey eyes flashing. “I won’t be able to guarantee your safety,” Byakuya said, looking like the admission physically pained him. “But if you’re ever hurt, I refuse to stand around doing nothing.”

Huh. So it looked like the idea of me becoming a shinigami was bothering him more than he’d admit.

“Just because we’re friends, Byakuya, doesn’t mean that you’re responsible for my well-being,” I said softly. “Becoming a shinigami is dangerous, but it’s a choice that I made for myself. I know the risks—I’ll be careful. So don’t worry so much over me; you’ll get stress lines. And what a tragedy that would be,” I teased slightly, cupping his face and gently smoothing out the frown lines around his mouth.

“You say that like I have a choice,” he scoffed lightly, placing the slightest bit of pressure on my palms as he leaned into my touch. The ghost of a smile softened his features and without consciously thinking about it, I let my gaze drift down. There was something incredibly sensual about the curve of his lips, I thought absently. Unable to resist, I swept my thumbs across his lower lip in a feather-light touch.

“What the hell is taking you guys so long? Kuchiki, you went up there to tell Hisana that breakfast was ready half an hour ago! I’m hungry and I want to eat!” Kaien’s irritated voice drifted up the stairs. I blinked, just now realizing exactly how close Byakuya and I were standing.

“Ah,” I said, stepping back quickly and determinedly refusing to think about just how soft Byakuya’s lips were. Inwardly, I cursed myself, panicking—stupid, _stupid_! What was I _doing?_ Where the hell had my self-restraint gone?

With a massive effort, I managed to clear my expression to resemble something close to normal. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting,” I said with forced nonchalance, as if I hadn’t just been _caressing_ his face. Slipping a casual smile on with practiced ease, I added lightly, “Wouldn’t want Shiba-fukutaicho to faint from hunger, after all.” 

Byakuya stared at me, searching my features intently. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it as his brow furrowed slightly, the barest hint of frustration and—disappointment? – crossing his face before vanishing so quickly I wondered if it had been there at all.

“Indeed,” he said politely, the moment lost.

***

“Dear lord, she’s beautiful,” I breathed out, staring down into soft, trusting glistening black eyes.

“It’s a pig,” Byakuya stated flatly.

“ _My_ pig,” I corrected, cradling her carefully. She snuffled, burrowing deeper into my arms and my heart melted.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Kukaku grunted from where she was nursing a cup of tea. Unsure of how to bring the subject of our bet up, I’d sent her questioning looks all through breakfast until she finally cracked, snapping out a “All right, all right, you’ve got yourself a teacher! Just stop looking at me like that!” She’d then promptly dragged me out to the pigpen and had demanded I pick one. At that moment, one of the piglets wandered away from its mother and made its way towards me curiously. It was small, and had black splotches covering its fuzzy pink body and I’d fallen in love.

“Aww, it’s cute. Do you have a name for it yet?” Yoruichi asked, reaching out to stroke the top of the pig’s snout with one finger.

“I’m thinking about Tonton. A cute name for a cute pig,” I cooed, before turning to face Kaien. “Um…I don’t think the Academy allows pet pigs, so--”

“You can keep it here—we’ll feed it and stuff—but you can visit at any time,” Kaien said smiling, watching the way I brought the pig up to my face and nuzzled it with my nose.

“It’s a _pig,”_ Byakuya repeated before turning back to Kaien. “You couldn’t have promised her a puppy or a rabbit or something?”

“Oh come on, Byakuya. Even you have to admit that she’s too adorable for words,” I said, lifting her up to face Byakuya. He stared back, unimpressed.

“It’s unsanitary,” was all he said. I glared at him before stomping away.

“Don’t listen to him, Tonton,” I cooed, stroking her ears gently. She made a happy snorting noise and I leaned down to press a kiss to her head. “He’s just a nasty, mean grumpypants who doesn’t know anything.” Yoruichi coughed, choking with laughter.

“Ouch, Kuchiki. You just lost to a pig,” Kukaku said sympathetically. “Sorry, man. I didn’t think she’d get this attached,” I heard Kaien mutter apologetically.

“Figures,” Byakuya muttered. “I offer to buy her everything under the sun and she refuses. You give her a _pig_ and she’s over the moon.”

“I can hear you, you know,” I called over my shoulder. “And there’s nothing wrong with being happy about getting a pig. Especially if it’s a pig as awesome as Tonton obviously is.”

“Even after two years of knowing you, you still make no sense,” he said, shaking his head almost wonderingly.

 “A quick lesson about women, Kuchiki,” Kaien said, coming over and clasping a hand on Byakuya’s shoulder. “They don’t make sense. And they never will. That’s the best thing about them, I think. Otherwise, they’d be predictable and boring and where’s the fun in that?”

***

“How was your Academy exam?” Unohana asked me warmly, motioning for me to take a biscuit.

“I think it went well for the most part,” I said, nibbling on a blueberry scone. “The written portion was pretty easy and the proctor said that I definitely passed the reiatsu portion—I hit a snag on the physical part of the test, but overall it didn’t go too badly.” I hesitated before continuing. “There is something I’d like to ask you about though.”

“You are free to ask me anything, Yukimura-san. You know that,” Unohana replied soothingly.

“I, uh, don’t know how much you know about the Academy admittance policies, but…well, one of the other applicants said something about the test being biased towards nobles. I just…it’ll be okay if I don’t get in. But my sister and my brother are applying in a few months. I don’t…they’ll be devastated if they’re refused simply because they aren’t from here.”

“Ah.” Unohana was silent for a moment. “It is…true that the test is designed so that those who have grown up in the Seireitei have a higher chance of getting in, but not in the way that you’re thinking. The Academy would never reject a student solely because of their heritage; a great number of our skilled members are from the Rukongai. However, the unfortunate truth is that the majority of Rukongai applicants are, well, illiterate. Those who do know how to read and write are often eliminated in the reiatsu testing portion of the exam. You have to understand, Yukimura-san, that the majority of applicants from the Seireitei are trained to access and use their reiatsu at a very young age. Combined with the fact that nobles naturally tend to have higher reiatsu than regular souls…” Her voice trailed off. “I suppose if the admittance council were to decide between two students of equal strength, the student with the higher social status would be accepted, but aside from that, I can assure you that birth will not play a factor in their decision.”

“Thank you, Unohana-taicho,” I murmured, feeling a bit relieved.

“Not at all.” She smiled at me. “I wouldn’t think too much on the matter. I have the utmost confidence that you will be accepted.”

I blinked in startled pleasure at the unexpected praise. “I—thank you for the compliment.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“Well then. Now that that’s settled, there’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you.” Unohana leaned forward, eyes intent. “As a first year Academy student, you will be taking courses in reiatsu theory, beginning reiatsu manipulation, meditation, history, and of course, the four basic shinigami combat forms: hohou, kido, zanjutsu and hakuda. As you progress, additional elective courses will be offered, including but not limited to, healing kido, anatomy, and beginning research. As an upper-year student, you will also be offered the option of going on training missions and accompanying various squads to help you determine which divisions to apply for upon your graduation.” She paused, looking at me and I nodded to show that I understood. Her lips quirked briefly before she continued.

“Normally, these options are only offered to students after completion of their third year of training. However, given your current skill, I believe that it would be a waste to have you sitting in beginning reiatsu manipulation lessons. Therefore, if you are amenable, I would propose you taking an internship with the Fourth in place of your reiatsu manipulation and theory classes. If you think you may be interested, I can provide you with more details now and you can think it over later.”

I blinked rapidly before nodding my head. “I—yes. That is, please go on.” I stuttered. Unohana inclined her head regally.

“I have recently spoken with the head of the Academy and both reiatsu theory and manipulation classes are offered on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. In place of this, you would instead report to the Fourth Division headquarters where you would be assigned to the General Emergency Relief Station under a chosen mentor. As you gain experience, you would be rotated through the Advanced Relief Teams on a monthly basis. This would allow you to learn healing kido the way other shinigami are trained while simultaneously learning the inner mechanics of the division. You would also report to me once a month on what you have learned, while we work on testing the limits of your own healing techniques.”

“How long would the shifts be?” I asked.

“Five hours—from 12:30 to 5:30. Your normal class hours would be between 1:00 and 3:30, so this is a little bit more of a time commitment. In exchange, you would be paid the hourly wage of an unseated Fourth Division officer. Furthermore, upon graduation from the Academy, I would be willing to guarantee you a seated position,” Unohana said, searching my features carefully. “I understand if you need more time to thi--”

“Yes,” I blurted out without hesitation. “Definitely. Yes.” Personal sessions with Unohana herself, the chance to get out of two beginners classes, a part-time job, and the opportunity to officially start learning healing kido four years early? I’d have to be insane to give that up. Unohana looked a bit startled at my quick agreement before her features softened, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

“Welcome to the Fourth Division then, Yukimura Hisana.”         

***

Byakuya Interlude

The thing he treasured most about his friendship with Hisana, was that it came so _easily._ It was simple. Uncomplicated. Although trained in the art of conversing, simply _talking_ was not something that came easily to Byakuya. With Hisana, however, he could talk about everything and nothing for hours simply because she never expected him to be always polite, always educated, always _perfect._ Touch was also something that came easily with her…although that part was more Hisana’s influence.

Touch came to her as naturally as speech—it was evident in the way she’d ruffle Rukia’s hair proudly, or drop a quick kiss on her forehead or cheek whenever she managed to accomplish a rather difficult task. The way she’d scold Renji while straightening his clothes and brushing the dirt off while he waved her off with a half-hearted scowl that didn’t quite hide his reluctantly pleased expression at having someone to fuss over him. How Hisana would brush Miwa’s hair at night and braid it in the mornings, the way she’d stand at Miwa’s back as she struggled to learn how to read, gently touching Miwa’s shoulder every so often to calm her down and reassure her that she was doing fine.

While initially surprised, he’d eventually dismissed the matter as yet another way families in the Rukongai differed from noble ones. Although he was used to family members showing their care in much more subtle ways, he had to admit that there was something…nice about the way Hisana’s family didn’t bother hiding their affection from each other. Seeing the way Hisana would automatically turn to high-five a smirking Kaori after successfully ganging up on Kazuki, the way she’d gently massage Mitsuo’s muscles after a long day at the dojo and the tender way she’d bandage Kazuki’s wounds whenever he got into fights while simultaneously yelling at him for being an idiot was…Byakuya couldn’t quite describe how he felt upon seeing it. Content, certainly. A little wistful, perhaps (and if he were being completely honest with himself, maybe even a tiny bit envious).

Even among relative strangers though, she never shied away from physical contact. Byakuya remembered one time, the butcher’s wife from two blocks down came to her with a bruises on her throat in the shape of handprints, one eye darkened blue and purple. Hisana had quietly tended to her wounds before setting a blanket around her shoulders and handing her a cup of tea. She’d then taken the woman’s hands in her own, told her she was welcome to stay at the clinic for as long as she wanted and had asked if she’d like to talk (the butcher’s wife had ended up crying into Hisana’s shoulder for the next two hours. Byakuya didn’t quite know what happened after that but he’d heard Kazuki and Kaori gleefully discussing the pale look on the butcher’s face whenever he saw Hisana nowadays).

_“It’s how she’s always been,” Kazuki had commented once during Byakuya’s third full day in the Rukongai, gaze following Byakuya’s to where Hisana had a crying child in her arms, the poor boy’s shoulders shaking with sobs. Apparently he and his sister had lost track of time while picking berries in the forest and had the unfortunate luck of having enough spirit energy to attract a hollow. The boy had survived. The girl hadn’t been so lucky. “Ever since I first met her, when she was still a thin, starving slip of a girl with too-serious eyes, a spine of steel and a heart too big for this shitty place. Though that last part hasn’t changed.” Byakuya paused, trying to picture what Hisana must have been like as a child. He couldn’t._

_“Hard to imagine, yeah?” Kazuki said wryly. “She looked like a baby bird, all fragile bones and eyes too big for her face. But even back then, she was never really a child. Always fussing over us, making sure we ate enough—even though she and Rukia were the only ones who actually needed to eat, trying_ so hard _to earn her place…” He snorted. “No wonder Tatsuya was so taken with her.”_

_“Tatsuya?” Byakuya asked._

_“Our old leader. Died a while back, along with another one of our members.” Kazuki paused, a hint of tired grief entering his features. “Hisana’s never really forgiven herself for not being able to save him.”_

_Both of them were silent for a moment as they watched the boy in Hisana’s arms cry himself to sleep, finally succumbing to exhaustion. “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Kazuki said, still not facing Byakuya. “I’ve noticed that you and Hisana are already pretty close, which means that at some point or another, if you keep coming around, you’ll be subjected to her extreme version of mother-henning.” He grinned, turning to face Byakuya for the first time. “Figured I’d warn you so you’re not alarmed if hugs you or something. She does that with everyone—it’s just her way of showing that she cares.” He clapped a friendly hand on Byakuya’s shoulder, ignoring the way Byakuya stiffened. “Don’t think too much into it, alright? I’m only telling you this so you don’t get the wrong idea—I know nobles have weird ideas about physical contact, but with Hisana, it’s not like that. Really.” Kazuki snorted. “I mean, the girl loves as easily as breathing—as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now—but she’s never looked at another person in_ that _way. Too busy saving lives and obsessing over Rukia’s safety and all.”_

_“Thank you for telling me this,” Byakuya said. It was…unexpectedly thoughtful of Hisana’s brother to pull him aside and clarify things._

_“I wouldn’t want there to be any awkwardness between you two due to a misunderstanding,” he said casually, offering Byakuya a friendly smile._

And for a while, everything was fine. Byakuya could enjoy her company without worrying that she’d want _more,_ and whenever Hisana gave him a quick hug or punched him playfully in the arm or linked her arm with his, he didn’t have to worry about it being some misguided attempt at seduction. Better yet, he didn’t have to worry about _Hisana_ taking it the wrong way either. The first time Byakuya had touched her instead of the other way around—she had fallen asleep in an awkward position on a chair and he had hesitated before reaching out with one hand to shake her awake—she hadn’t batted an eye.

 _Physical contact_ wasn’t the issue. He had never once felt uncomfortable or pressured when Hisana touched him. _The problem,_ Byakuya thought in frustration, glaring at nothing in particular, _was that lately, it didn’t seem enough._

Which _didn’t make sense._ The amount of physical contact they had was already bordering on improper in aristocratic society. The only thing that kept their relationship from becoming outright scandalous was that they had kept their interactions relatively private. And instead of trying to maintain some distance—he only had to speak the word and Hisana would comply—he instead found himself making excuses to see her, timing his schedule so that he would bump into her on the street, running errands to the 13th…

 _Want_ was not a feeling Kuchiki Byakuya was accustomed to. Yet lately, it seemed to be all he could focus on. The warm glow of her smile...the comforting feel of her reiatsu…how warm and soft her body felt against his…how her fingers had felt, gently cupping his face, eyes lit with something like wonder—

He’d thought with the way Hisana was going to be living in the Seireitei for the foreseeable future, the incessant urge to see her face that had been plaguing him for the past few months would ease. Instead, it seemed to have _increased._

 _It will pass,_ Byakuya reassured himself. Whatever strange attraction he felt towards his closest friend…it would pass. It had to. The alternative didn’t even bear considering.

Byakuya blinked, stepping back startled as a stick full of dango was thrust under his nose. “Did you know that they’re having a dango sale down the street?” Hisana asked happily, biting off half of a sweet dumpling. “They’re showcasing some kind of mystery new flavor too. Here, I got you a stick. Try it and tell me if it’s good.”

“Using me as a food tester then?” He teased, amused.

“Uh huh,” she said, completely unabashed. “Come on. Put those aristocratic taste buds of yours to use, Byakuya-hime.”

With a put-upon sigh, he complied, wondering if he was crazy to be attracted to this tiny, bossy, emotional, overprotective, short-tempered, absolutely _ridiculous_ girl.

“It’s…good,” Byakuya said, after a contemplative moment. “A mix of red bean paste with…cherry flavoring?”

“Hmm. Not bad,” Hisana mused thoughtfully. “Interesting combination, but why not?” Without hesitation, she proceeded to grab Byakuya’s hand and drag him forward. “Come on, we have to hurry before all the good deals are gone.”

 _Probably,_ Byakuya admitted in his head as he stared at their intertwined fingers. _But then, there are far worse things to be a bit crazy over._

***

Kaien Interlude

 

“Shiba-dono, what a pleasure it is seeing you again. Being lieutenant suits you well,” Onabara Gengoro commented before leaning forward, crossing his finger together. “What can I do for you today?”

“If I’m not mistaken, the Academy entrance exam took place yesterday, did it not?” Kaien asked, resisting the urge to fidget under his old teacher’s stern gaze. Something about it made him feel like an unruly schoolboy again—the number of times he’d been called into this very room for various misdemeanors probably didn’t help.

“Yes it did. What of it?” Onabara asked.

“I was wondering if I could take a look at the file of one of the applicants, Onabara-sensei,” Kaien answered. Onabara gave him a sharp look.

“You know that the files of potential recruits are kept strictly confidential, Shiba-dono,” he said, voice cooling a degree.

“Ah, but I have a bit of a personal interest in this one,” Kaien wheedled. “Besides, the results will be posted in two days anyway, correct? Surely this would do no harm to anybody.”

To his surprise, Onabara relaxed back in his chair, snorting. “I see you still have to learn patience. Still, I suppose it would only be fair to grant your request considering the fact that I allowed another officer to access the files of an applicant earlier today.” He sent Kaien a shrewd look. “This applicant’s name wouldn’t happen to be Yukimura Hisana, would it?”

“It would,” Kaien answered, wondering who the other officer could be. Who else was interested in Hisana and had the rank and the influence to…oh.

“Her results were…interesting. I’m not surprised that you’ve taken an interest in her,” Onabara continued. “It’s almost a pity that…well, I suppose you’ll see for yourself. The files are in Kita-sensei’s office—I assume you remember where it is.”

“Thank you, Onabara-sensei,” Kaien said distractedly, before taking off in a series of flash-steps. Sure enough, when he got there Byakuya was in the process of taking out a file. He looked up sharply at Kaien’s entrance.

“Shiba-fukutaicho. What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“A bit hypocritical for you to be asking that, don’t you think Kuchiki-fukutaicho?” Kaien motioned towards the file in Byakuya’s hands. “Does Yukimura know that you’re doing this?” Byakuya’s faintly guilty look answered that question. Walking over, Kaien snatched the file out of Byakuya’s hands, ignoring his sound of protest as he did so. “I’m the one who spent the past few weeks training her, so I get first dibs,” Kaien said, smirking at Byakuya’s mutinous expression. “Relax, you’ll get your turn.”

Flipping through the pages, he paused as he came upon Hisana’s written portion of the exam. “Close to full marks on the writing section,” Kaien whistled, feeling faintly impressed. “Not bad for someone with no formal education, huh?”

“Hisana is very good at reading and writing,” Byakuya stated, a hint of pride tinting his voice.

“Curious, that,” Kaien murmured, scanning Hisana’s responses to the questions, kanji written in Hisana’s small, neat handwriting. “I do wonder where she learned…” The last time he checked, the Rukongai didn’t have any schools. More surprising than the fact that Hisana knew how to write, though, was that she knew _what_ to write. “She sounds like she swallowed a handful of recruitment packets filled with propaganda,” Kaien stated, faintly amused. If he hadn’t known any better, even he might have been fooled. “The perfect brainwashed, authority-worshipping soldier.”

“What?” Byakuya blinked.

“She sure knows how to throw terms around, doesn’t she? ‘Peace and order’… ‘duty’ … ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ … ‘maintain the existing political state to prevent chaos’ … ‘obligation’ … ‘uphold rules and laws for the greater good, no matter the cost’,” Kaien set down the packet, a bit disturbed. It was very, very subtle but knowing what he did about Hisana’s personality, the essay read like a satirical criticism of the Gotei 13 as a utilitarianism state. Judging from Byakuya’s pensive expression, he felt the same way. Pursing his lips, Kaien decided to flip ahead to the results from Hisana’s reiatsu testing portion.

“Huh. 6.2—not bad. Not bad at all,” Kaien said. Both he and Byakuya were probably quite a bit above a ten, but for a new Academy student? That was definitely above average. “And…” he flipped to the next page, grin widening. “Perfect reiatsu control!”

“ _What?”_ Byakuya demanded, leaning forward to look. Kaien let him, resisting the urge to cheer. While perfect reiatsu control wasn’t _unheard_ of by any means—Unohana-taicho and a few other upper-level healers definitely had perfect control, and Kaien would be willing to bet quite a few Kido Corps members did as well—it was _exceedingly_ rare to see it in someone with no formal reiatsu training. _Kaien_ didn’t even have perfect reiatsu control.

“She’s just full of surprises, huh? No wonder you like her so much,” Kaien said, ignoring the flustered glare the Kuchiki heir sent his way. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when, but somewhere down the line Hisana had managed to wrap Kuchiki Byakuya around her finger. Kaien wondered how the Kuchiki elders would take the news of their precious heir crushing on a _commoner_ and had to suppress a sudden onslaught of sniggers as he pictured their enraged expressions.

“Okay, on to the physical portion…” Above average, above average, pretty good, average and…he blinked upon seeing her time for the two mile run, before taking in the proctor’s note at the side.

“Well, the good news is that she passed the minimum requirement for each section,” Kaien said faintly. “The bad news is that she almost failed the two mile run.” Byakuya’s brow furrowed.

“But she should have had no problem with that,” he said, confused.

“Yeah. Normally she wouldn’t have. But apparently she stopped in the middle of the run to administer emergency medical aid to a fellow applicant,” Kaien said, slightly exasperated and yet not at all surprised.

“’Emergency medical aid?’ It was a two mile run! What kind of medical emergency could someone possibly get into during that time?” Byakuya asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Kaien sighed. While there was a ‘minimum requirement’ for each portion of the test, everyone knew that you had to get well above that in order to pass. “Her other scores should make up for that. She’ll pass. However, if she hadn’t stopped during the run, she would have easily made it into the First Class,” Kaien said a bit regretfully. Onabara’s words made a lot more sense now. Only the people who had performed _exceptionally_ in each category were allowed in.

“Mmm. Perhaps it’s for the best,” Byakuya murmured. Kaien looked up in surprise—being chosen for First Class was an honor. To have come so close…he hadn’t expected Byakuya to be _relieved_ that his closest friend hadn’t gotten in.

“She’s from the Rukongai. More than that, she’s from one of the poorest districts of the Rukongai. And so far, she’s made friends with several seated officers, two lieutenants, and two captains. How do you think other people are going to take that?” Byakuya asked rhetorically before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter _how_ good she is, there are always going to be accusations of favoritism. It’s better to let her start off in the regular class, prove herself beyond all doubt and then move into the First Class.”

“You seem pretty certain that she’s going to make it,” Kaien commented, absently wondering at the faith the Kuchiki heir seemed to have in the elder Yukimura sibling. Byakuya sent him a look of disbelief.

“It’s _Hisana._ The girl who matched your sister in a drinking contest because she couldn’t stand losing. Of course she’s going to make it.”  


	18. Chapter 18

“You know, I really thought that this moment would be a lot more dramatic,” I said absently, staring down at my acceptance packet. Inside was a thick congratulatory letter and a to-do list. Glancing over it quickly, I saw that orientation/move in would be in a week and that I had to report to the Fourth sometime during the next three days for a physical.

“Not sure what you mean. This moment is plenty dramatic,” Hiro said, motioning towards the hordes of crying/cheering/sobbing people around us.

“It’s a shame that you didn’t make First Class though,” Eiji said, grey eyes scanning the list of accepted applicants on the wall in front of him. 

“It’s okay that you didn’t. There’s always next semester,” Chiyo said comfortingly.

“I’m not too torn up about it, actually,” I said honestly. “I’m just happy that I made it. Plus, I figure that my internship will keep me busy enough without adding in the extra pressure of being in the First Class.”

“That’s the right spirit,” Hiro grinned, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Besides, it’s full of entitled, stuck-up brats anyway.”

“You do realize that I was in the First Class, right?” Eiji asked dryly.

“Case in point,” Hiro retorted before ducking as Eiji swiped at his head.

“Boys,” Chiyo sighed despairingly as we watched Eiji chase Hiro through the courtyard while Hiro threw taunts behind him.

“Idiots,” I agreed. I took Chiyo’s relaxed posture, the way that Eiji was laughing again and Hiro’s eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them, and smiled contently. They’d be okay.

***

 I stared at my reflection in the mirror critically, unsure what to think. The Academy uniform consisted of a red undershirt, a white shirt with red stripes that went over it and the Academy emblem on both breasts, and a red hakama. The uniform itself was fine—it fit well and was comfortable enough. Just…something about wearing it made me look about five years younger.

Turning around, I found Byakuya staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Deciding that the mood was getting a bit too serious, I struck a pose.

“Well? What do you think?” I asked, cocking one hip to the side and flipping my hair over my shoulder.

He blinked, startled, before chuckling softly, shaking his head with an exasperated look on his face.

“I don’t know why I was worried that you would change,” he murmured under his breath before stepping forward. “You look lovely, Hisana. As always.”

“Always so charming,” I smiled briefly, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach. Stupid butterflies.  

“I do try,” Byakuya replied, reaching out and gently fingering the edges of my hair. It was getting long again, now extending several inches past my shoulders. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even. Reaching into his kimono, he pulled out a red ribbon—the same shade as my hakama, actually—and motioned for me to turn around. I was quiet as he lightly carded his fingers through my hair, nimble fingers gracefully twisting my hair into an elegant braid before tying off the end using the ribbon.

“It’s something my mother taught me,” Byakuya said quietly. He chuckled wistfully, his breath warm on the nape of my neck. I inhaled sharply. “She always believed being able to arrange hair was a skill everyone should have. I used to help her style her hair before formal events. She liked to experiment with different hairstyles.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” I said softly.

“She was,” Byakuya agreed, an odd twist to his mouth as he studied me carefully. “I think she would have liked you.”

“Yeah?” I asked, voice small.

Byakuya shrugged minutely, one side of his mouth tilting up. “You make me happy. And seeing her family happy had always been the most important thing to her.”

***

“Hisana-san!” I looked up to see Isane waving her hand at me, about twenty feet away. Running up to me, she bit her lip before adding, “I’m so glad to see you. I was so worried that I wouldn’t know anyone here.”

“Glad to see you too,” I said, returning her smile. “See? I told you that there was nothing to be worried about. We both made it, didn’t we?”

“Yes we did. What class are you in?” She asked.

“Class 2,” I replied. Isane beamed.

“So am I! That means that we’ll be taking classes together!”

“That’s great,” I said sincerely. Glancing to the side, I added, “I gotta run to the bathroom. Catch you later?” In retrospect, drinking about four cups of tea that morning had not been the brightest idea. Still, apparently even death couldn’t break my need for caffeine and in a world without coffee…

“You better hurry. The orientation ceremony’s starting soon,” Isane said, sounding a bit worried. “You don’t want to be late for that. I heard they have a _lieutenant_ coming in to demonstrate his shikai,” she whispered in a hushed voice.

Kaien had mentioned something about that, I remembered absently. Typically, around two captains and two lieutenants attended the ceremony to inspire the new recruits. Kaien would be one of them, although he wouldn’t be the one in charge of the shikai demonstration.

“I won’t. There’s fifteen minutes before it starts; I’ve got plenty of time,” I promised, hurrying off.

***

Five minutes later, I was cursing my need to help other people as I found myself trying to break into a closet.

“Are you still there?” The voice from inside the closet asked nervously. “I’m so glad that you found me, I thought that I was gonna be stuck there for _ages.”_

“How did you even get locked inside?” I asked incredulously. When I’d went to investigate the weird banging noise coming from down the hall, I had _not_ expected to hear a cry for help coming from inside a cleaning closet.

“I didn’t mean to!” He wailed. “It’s just, I was kind of tired this morning so I wasn’t watching where I was going and I accidentally bumped into this one guy. And then he punched me in the stomach and I threw up on his shoes and…” he broke off sniffling. “And the next thing I knew, I was being shoved in here.”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” I said soothingly. “Now, this door locks from the outside, right? I don’t suppose you know where he put the key?” I glanced upwards. The nail next to the top of the door—where I guessed the key normally went—was empty.

“He took it. Said that he’d come let me out a couple hours later and that maybe missing the orientation ceremony would teach me a lesson,” was the mournful answer. _Jesus Christ, I thought stuff like this only happened in cheesy high school movies_ , I thought grumpily.

“Okay, I’m going to find someone who can let you out,” I said, looking around in hopes that a random janitor might pop up out of nowhere.

“Wait, no, don’t go!” The voice yelped. “Please don’t leave me,” he added pitifully.   
“It’s cramped in here and it’s…it’s so dark in here. I can’t see _anything._ I don’t want to be alone. _”_

I rubbed my forehead tiredly, trying to ward off a budding headache.

“Fine, fine, don’t panic,” I said in exasperation, instead leaning down to examine the lock. The good news was, it was a cleaning closet so the lock was relatively simple. The bad news was, I didn’t have anything useful on me to pick the lock with right now.

_Anything can be used as a lock pick if you have enough imagination,_ Kaori’s voice said in my head. _If you can’t find anything, that simply means you’re not trying hard enough._

Glancing down at my braid, I eyed my hair thoughtfully. On the surface, using my hair to pick a lock seemed like an impossible idea. For one, it was too flimsy a material and not nearly hard enough. However…making a mental apology to Byakuya, I pulled the ribbon out before separating a few strands of hair from the rest. Using a small amount of reiatsu, I channeled it down my hair, commanding it to twist the strands together until it formed a thin, rigid, wire-like structure. I prodded it tentatively and when it didn’t bend, I mentally decided it was good enough. After doing the same with another strand of hair, I had my tension wrench and my lock-pick.

“Okay, just stay put, I’m going to try and pick the lock,” I said, manipulating my ‘tension wrench’ into a more desirable shape.

It wasn’t easy. I was almost embarrassingly out of practice and the type of lock wasn’t something I was familiar with. Additionally, my hair may have been coated with a layer of reiatsu to add stiffness, but that didn’t mean that it was ideal to pick locks with. Still…I bit my lip as I applied pressure with the tension wrench to the bottom of the keyhole and tried to depress the pins inside the lock with the pick. The sound of applause came from outside the window—apparently the orientation ceremony had already started, then. I’d been here longer than I thought. God, Kaori would kill me if she saw how inept I’d gotten at this.

“Whatcha’ doin’?” An unfamiliar voice came from behind me. I cursed mentally as I looked behind me to see a teenager with short, silver hair and a foxlike grin. My heart skipped a beat and I turned back to focus on the lock, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of dread pooling in my stomach. “Ya do know that you’re suppose’ ta be at the ceremony right now?”

“Look, in case you didn’t notice—and maybe you didn’t, I can’t tell whether your eyes are open or not--” I jiggled my lock-pick, feeling another pin give. “—but I’m a—bit—busy right now. So if you could just—not talk—that would be much appreciated.” I’d deal with the fact that I was 90% certain the guy behind me was Ichimaru Gin later.

“Are ya usin’ your hair to pick that?” Was the amused reply as he leaned in for a closer look. “Gotta say, haven’t seen that one before.”

“Um…is someone else there?” The person inside the closet asked timidly.

“Almost done,” I said, ignoring both of them. “Just a bit more—and—there!” With a click, the door unlocked. I opened the door only to have about a hundred and twenty pounds of relieved teenage boy come tumbling out on me.

“You did it! You actually did it! Oh thank god. Thank you so much,” the kid said babbling. He glanced to the silver-haired guy behind me and paled dramatically. “Um.”

“Ichimaru Gin,” the teen introduced himself, ever-present grin still on his face. “Third seat of Squad Five.”

“I-i-it’s an h-honor to m-m-meet you, I-Ichimaru-sama,” the boy I’d rescued from the closet stuttered. “I-I’m Y-Yamada H-H-Hanataro.” The poor kid looked like he was about to faint. Gin’s smile widened before he looked towards me expectantly. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” I said blandly. “I’d love to chat more, but as you’ve pointed out, Yamada-san and I are already late. If you’ll excuse us, there’s a rather important ceremony that we really need to be going to.” I made it about two steps before I was stopped by an iron grip on my arm.

“Leaving so soon?” Gin asked slyly. “Just as we were getting to know each other too. Why, my feelings might be hurt.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” I said, voice dry before tugging experimentally on my arm. It didn’t budge. “Please let go of me.” I didn’t quite succeed in keeping the bite out of my tone.

He stared at me for a moment longer before releasing his grip and stepping back. “Of course—I didn’t mean ta make you feel uncomfortable.” I twitched at his mocking tone and Gin’s grin shifted into a smirk. He made a waving motion with one hand before turning and walking away in the opposite direction. “I’ll see ya around.”

I stared after his departing figure uneasily. Attracting the attention of Ichimaru Gin was…not something I wanted to do. Just because he’d been secretly aiming to kill Aizen all along didn’t mean that he was any less dangerous. In fact, it probably made him _more_ so. Because aside from hurting Matsumoto, there was nothing, _nothing_ that he wouldn’t do to achieve his goal.

***

“Where have you been?!” Isane hissed out as I slipped into the empty seat beside her, Hanataro tagging along quietly. After Gin had left, it’d taken us another twenty minutes to get here. First because Hanataro had really needed to use the bathroom—apparently he’d been stuck in that closet for over an hour, good lord—and then because we’d hid behind a building wall until we’d seen the crowd stand up and applaud. After that, it was a simple matter of using the crowd’s distraction to slip in unnoticed.

“It’s my fault,” Hanataro mumbled miserably, face downcast. He looked like a kicked puppy. “Yukimura-san was only late because she stopped to help me. If I hadn’t--”

I sighed heavily. “Yamada-san, I’m the one who stopped to help, so stop blaming yourself.” At Isane’s questioning look, I added, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. But enough about that—what’d we miss?”

“A few speeches and the shikai demonstration,” Isane said, looking upset. “I can’t believe you didn’t get to see it. It was…it was…” She shook her head, looking slightly awestruck. “I mean, you hear about how powerful shinigami are, you know? Especially lieutenants and captains…but seeing their power for _yourself…”_ She shook her head. “I can’t describe it.”

I thought back to the first time I met Byakuya. Bruised, battered, grieving for his comrades, suffering from heavy reiatsu depletion, broken ribs and a serious concussion to boot…and he still would’ve won against four of Oshiro’s best trained goons if he hadn’t passed out halfway.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I said, turning my attention back to the front of the stage where they were calling up graduates from last year’s class—one from each division, plus one from the Kido Corps and one from the Omnitsukido—to each give a short speech on their experience after graduation and what each squad stood for.

***

I was debating between three different types of mochi at a more secluded reception table when I felt a familiar reiatsu presence approaching.

“Not in the mood for minglin’?” An amused voice drawled, causing me to grit my teeth. Four hundred students here, and _I_ had to be the one he chose to single out.

“Eh. I’m sure the guest speakers are busy enough without having to deal with one more student to talk to,” I answered, mentally deciding _screw it_ and taking all three. I’d need sugar to get through this conversation anyway. “Besides, the fact that everyone’s so busy trying to make connections just means that there’s more food here for me.”

“Mmm. Would be a shame for all this food ta go to waste,” Gin agreed, reaching over my arm to snatch one of the sticky rice balls off my plate. My eye twitched and I smacked his hand away.

“Ouch. Possessive, aren’t ya?”  Gin pouted at me. “Didn’t your mother ever teach ya to share?”

My fingers tightened around the edge of my plate, and I mentally inserted Ichimaru’s neck there instead.

“Didn’t _your_ mother teach you not to take things that aren’t yours?” I retorted grumpily.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Gin asked cheerfully, reaching out to snatch another mochi ball from me. Snatching my plate out of his reach and resisting the urge to stab him with a chopstick, I grabbed another plate before filling it in record time.

“Here,” I said, shoving the plate roughly at him. “Now you have your own food and you can stop trying to steal mine. And as for me, I’ve decided that you’re right—I _should_ be mingling more, start networking and all that. Orientation doesn’t happen every day after all.” Grabbing my own plate, I spun around and promptly walked head-first into a brick wall.

Or at least it _felt_ like a brick wall. As I stumbled backwards, I felt one hand reaching out to gently steady me and prevent me from falling over.

“ _Ow,”_ I muttered, cupping my nose. Stupid insanely toned shinigami with their stupid hard muscles. Holy crap, what was his chest made of anyway? Bricks? 

“I’m afraid not,” answered a deep voice tinged with amusement. I glanced up in confusion to see warm brown eyes glinting with laughter behind a pair of glasses, before realization dawned.

“Oh my god,” I said, feeling my face heat up. It was probably a shade of red never before seen in nature at this point. Covering my face with my hands as I tried to ignore Gin’s snickers behind me, I stammered, “I-I didn’t mean to say that…actually, you know what? I’m just going to go. Please forget that this ever happened.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s quite the compliment, actually,” he laughed. Bending down, he handed me my plate. “Here. You dropped this.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, accepting it back. A shift of his arm brought my attention to his lieutenant badge and I frowned. _Who…?_

“Aizen-fukutaicho!” I blanched, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“Didn’t expect to see you over here. You’re usually surrounded by your adoring fans,” Kaien grinned, walking up to us. His voice sounded faint for some reason, as if it was coming from far away. I struggled to keep my breathing even, trying to push down the sudden _crushingpanicterrorfear_ rising up in me. Bile rose up in my throat and I clamped my lips together tightly, feeling more than a little nauseous.

“Over a hundred years and that still hasn’t changed. You know, you don’t _have_ to volunteer for the shikai demonstration every year. Let the rest of us have some glory, yeah?” Kaien added.

_In, out,_ a familiar voice spoke up urgently in my head, cutting through my panic like a knife through butter. _That’s it. Keep your breathing even. Fifteen breaths per minute, evenly spaced. You can do this._

“I decided to check on Gin over here,” Aizen chuckled. He sounded so calm. Genuine. Hard to believe that in under a century, he’d be planning mass murder and develop an army of monsters, all in an attempt to take over the world.

_Heart rate even,_ the same voice commanded sharply. I struggled to obey its directions, but maintaining such control over my basic body functions was difficult enough on a good day. Still, I could feel my heart rate slowly calming down. _No more than ninety beats per minute. Remember, you’re excited. A bit nervous to be in the presence of two lieutenants. It’s your orientation ceremony. Panic has no place here._

“And thank you for the offer, but I really don’t mind. It’s a few days out of three hundred and sixty five, after all. Besides, by this point it’s practically tradition. It’d feel strange not to do it,” Aizen continued, a genial smile on his face.

_Keep your posture relaxed. Body language is key here. Now is not the time to falter._

_He’s the man who planned my sister’s death,_ I thought back furiously, even as I schooled my expression to something resembling polite interest. _How the_ hell _am I supposed to act friendly around him?_

_And that’s why it’s even more important that you don’t reveal anything that you don’t want them to see. You can do this. Remember, Aizen Sousuke is not the only one who knows how to put on a mask._

“I suppose so,” Kaien said before turning to me. “I see you’ve met Yukimura here!”

“You two know each other?” Gin asked. He regarded me intently, a note of intrigue in his voice that hadn’t been there before, and I forced myself not to stiffen. So he _had_ noticed my reaction to Aizen. Joy.

“Not by choice,” I said, smirking at the wounded noise Kaien let out. “Shiba-fukutaicho is the one who found me in the Rukongai,” I explained. I considered my next words for a moment, before deciding that the potential amusement was too great to pass up. “Also, he’s the one who gave me my child.”

Kaien choked and for the next few seconds, I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Gin’s eyes open by a sliver and a flash of startled surprise cross Aizen’s face.

“What the…don’t—don’t say it like that!” Kaien gasped out, looking around frantically to see if anyone else had heard.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Shiba-fukutaicho,” I blinked innocently. “You _are_ the reason why I have Tonton-chan, after all. How is my baby doing, by the way?”

“Ya mean ta say tha’ it’s true?” Gin looked absolutely gleeful.

“In a manner of speaking,” I grinned. Aizen looked vaguely disapproving.

“Shiba-fukutaicho,” he began. Kaien cut him off with a sharp movement, glaring at me darkly.

“It’s not what you think. She’s talking about a pet pig that I gave her because of a bet. She just dotes on the animal like it’s her own child,” he scowled, face slightly red.

The corner of my mouth twitched before I gave up, collapsing in a fit of giggles. “I do apologize, Ichimaru-san, Aizen-fukutaicho. I’m sorry, I really am. I just couldn’t resist and the opportunity was so perfect…” I trailed off, taking a brief moment to compose myself. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“No harm was done,” Aizen said lightly, eying me interestedly. “It’s been a long time since anyone has played a prank on me, and I wouldn’t be much of a lieutenant if I couldn’t even take a joke.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope that you’re enjoying the ceremony, so far? You only go through this once.”

“How’d ya like the shikai demonstration, Yukimura-chan?” Gin asked, grinning slyly. “Didn’t see it myself this year, but I know the students always love it.”

I forced myself not to stiffen before replying. Gaze steady, breathing even, relaxed shoulders. “Well, the start of the ceremony was certainly…memorable. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

_That’s it. Keep being honest—the best lies are always formed from the truth,_ the same voice said in my head.

“I haven’t seen a crowd that excited in a long time,” I added. “One of my friends was especially impressed. She’s never seen anything like it before, you know? So it really meant a lot to her.”

“Well, I like to do what I can to help inspire the next generation,” Aizen said, eyes warm. “You’re the foundation of our future. We depend on you as much as you do on us.” Huh. No wonder he had all of Seireitei eating out of the palm of his hand. His compassionate, humble boy-scout act was flawless. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but feel a bit impressed.

“I’ll be sure to let her know you said that,” I said, smiling. Not a chance. The last thing I wanted was for Isane to start developing a crush on _Aizen Sousuke_ of all people. Glancing towards where a group of students were seemingly debating between themselves on whether or not to approach us—well, approach the two lieutenants and the third seat with me—I added, “Well, I don’t want to monopolize your time. Thanks for taking the time to speak with me; it was great meeting you, Ichimaru-san, Aizen-fukutaicho. Shiba-fukutaicho, I’ll see you later?”

“Of course, Yukimura. Don’t forget—Kukaku wanted you to come over tomorrow to start your lessons. I’ll pick you up at ten, okay?”

“I think I’ll find my own transportation, thanks,” I said dryly, ignoring Kaien’s exasperated sigh. Giving them a short bow, I took my plate of food and walked away at a medium pace, keeping my strides calm and steady. It was only when I entered a bathroom stall and locked the doors behind me that I allowed my hands to shake.

_Thank you,_ I murmured in my head. It was getting easier to hear my zanpakuto spirit’s voice (especially during times of stress), although I still couldn’t make out their—her?—name.

_Anytime,_ the voice responded kindly. _You did wonderfully. It’s over now. You’re going to be okay._

***

“Quite the actress there, aren’t ya?” Gin asked cheerfully as I walked out of the bathroom. My expression slipped into an automatic scowl at the sight of him. So much for thinking that I’d finally managed to get rid of him.

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re talking about,” I deflected.

“Don’t play dumb. I’m actually fairly impressed by how ya dodged around my question. Not too shabby at redirectin’ the conversation, are ya?”

“I told the truth. Nothing more,” I said shortly. Well, mostly.

“You’ll notice that I didn’t call ya a liar, just an actress. Which is far more interestin’, in my opinion,” he said. “Weren’t ya scared that I would say somethin’?”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself too much to do that,” I said. It had been a…gamble, with Gin around, but, well, I had to try. Aizen Sousuke was nothing if not meticulous and even if I was an Academy student and probably registered somewhere between ‘mud’ and ‘a dying hollow’ on his threat scale, I still didn’t want him knowing that I wasn’t under his illusion.

“Besides, what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, so sorry for missing your presentation, I was too busy trying to break into a closet’?” I continued mockingly. “Hell no. I have _some_ dignity.”

“Dignity? Ya told him that his pectorals were as hard as rock. Ta his face.”

I scowled at the reminder. “Yes, and that was bad enough. I had to at least _try_ not to embarrass myself further _.”_

“Fair enough,” Gin agreed easily, studying me closely. Something about his expression told me that he wasn’t fully convinced by my explanation.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked pointedly, trying to hide my unease.

“Nah. It’s just…I can’t quite figure ya out,” he said. “Ya put on a good show, I haveta admit, but you’re not quite the open book ya portray yourself as.” Gin tilted his head to the side, smile almost predatory. “What are ya hidin’ behind that innocent smile of yours, Yukimura?”

I pursed my lips, turning away. “We all have our secrets, Ichimaru-san. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel up to sharing mine with you.” As I started walking away, I added, “There’s this thing called privacy, Ichimaru-san. I suggest you learn what it means.”

***

It was the first day of class and already I hated it.

“It’s a wonderful day to go out for a run, isn’t it?” Isane asked cheerfully from where she was jogging on my other side. Figured that she was part of that awful race known as ‘morning people.’

“It is _six in the morning._ I hate my life,” I sulked, already missing my bed. Even if my room was approximately the size of a closet and my futon had the texture of lumpy tocks, at least it was warm. I really couldn’t complain—especially considering that the special housing accommodations the Academy offered for students from the Rukongai were free. “So much for easing us into this, huh?”

Move-in day had been the day after the orientation ceremony, and had also been the day we’d received our schedules. It had taken me approximately 0.2 seconds to realize that the Academy would be _very_ different from college.

Every day, we needed to report to the front courtyard at 6 a.m. sharp for an hour of basic physical training, which basically consisted of sit-ups, push-ups, jumping-jacks, and running—pretty much anything to keep us in shape—before we had an hour long breakfast break. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I had kido lessons from 8-10, and history lessons from 10:30-11:30 before I had to report to the Fourth Division between 12:30 and 5:30. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, I had hohou lessons from 8-10, and meditation from 10:30 to 11:30 before I had an hour for lunch. In the afternoons, I had zanjutsu lessons from one to three, and hakuda lessons from four to six.

Just thinking about it made my head hurt.

There was a sudden commotion behind me and I looked over to see one of the other students had stopped, breathing hard. Before he could get back up again, the instructor—Matsushita something—stalked over and kicked him roughly in the side.

“Tch. Weakling. You think some hollow is going to wait for you to catch your breath?” he sneered. “Guess I shouldn’t expect too much from Rukongai scum.” Making a note on his clip board, he yanked the guy up by his hair. The poor kid’s face was red with embarrassment and exertion and he avoided looking any of us in the eye. “Take a look, brats. Here’s a fine example of what _not_ to do.” Giving him another rough shove, Matsushita turned away. “Get up. You’re going into the Third Class before you waste any more of my time. Dunno what the examiners were thinking when they allowed someone of _your_ kind here.” 

“But-!” The kid sputtered. I couldn’t blame him; getting demoted to a lesser class was the biggest dishonor you could undergo as an Academy student, aside from getting kicked out.

It hadn’t taken me long to realize that the Academy had a very hierarchical structure based around which class you were in, and your ranking within that class. First Class was the highest, of course. They were the best of the best, the ones with the most prospects and the best offers after graduation. Insanely difficult to get into, the First Class consisted of the top twenty students in that year—to be accepted into it after the initial placements, you had to demonstrate that you were better than one of its current members.

Second Class, the group Isane and I were in, consisted of rankings twenty-one to sixty (Isane was ranked thirty-six, I was ranked twenty-four). From there, the other classes each consisted of around sixty students, the 400 admitted students neatly divided into a total of six classes (Hanataro was in the Third Class, rank ninety-three). Ranks were analyzed at the end of each week, and the changes were posted in the main Academy building every Monday morning.

Personally, I thought that it was all bullshit—a much more extreme version of class rank way back in high school—but even I had to admit that it did do its job of fostering competition between the students and driving them to work harder.

“Disobeying a direct order…showing blatant disrespect to a superior officer…” There was a nasty smirk on Matsushita’s face as he jotted down notes. His unfortunate target seemed to realize that he was only making things worse for himself because his shoulders slumped and he pressed his lips together tightly before walking away.

Tugging on Isane’s sleeve, I motioned for us to continue running with a jerk of my head. The poor kid was humiliated enough—to continue watching would be cruel.

“That was harsh,” Isane murmured to me once we were far enough away. “He didn’t deserve that.”

I bit my lip, remembering the glint of satisfaction in Matsushita’s eyes. “They needed to make an example. To show that anyone—no matter what your rank is—can be brought low. That any sign of weakness will be pounced upon.” The ranking system was probably hardest on the people in the Second Class, actually. Those in the First Class were mostly secure in their own superiority and rank mattered less in the lower classes…there wasn’t much of a difference between being rank 300 and 350, after all. But for those in the Second Class…we were told that we had a chance to become something more. That we weren’t good enough _right now_ but that could change.

“This isn’t what I thought being a shinigami was about,” Isane muttered, upset. “I joined to help people and I don’t—I don’t want it to be just about getting promotions. This kind of competition, it’s unhealthy. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“So don’t,” I said simply. “Yeah, if you have a higher rank you might get a better position right out of school, but there’s nothing preventing you from starting at the bottom of a squad and earning your way up from there. This?” I jerked my head back towards where Matsushita was standing. “Believe me, this is not the only way to do things. The system only controls you if you let it, Isane-san,” I said, speeding up. “Work hard and improve for your own sake. Not because some stupid ranking system tells you to.”

***

I stared with wide eyes at the katana on the desk in front of me, feeling a bit like I’d been bludgeoned in the head with a club.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” I stammered. “Are…are you sure?”

“Are you questioning my judgement, Yukimura-san?” Unohana asked. I shook my head frantically.

 “Not at all! But, aren’t zanpakuto normally only handed out upon graduation out of the Academy?”

“Not exactly. Asauchi—unnamed zanpakuto—are given to Academy students when they manage to access their soul world and make contact with their zanpakuto spirit. I have no doubt that some of your peers already possess zanpakuto. However, if a student has not yet accomplished this step by the end of their six years in the Academy—as is often the case—they are given an asauchi upon graduation.”

“How do you know if someone has actually accessed their soul world or not?” I asked dubiously. Unohana smiled, leaning forward slightly.

“As you have no doubt noticed, a shinigami’s reiatsu possesses a certain quality that regular souls—even souls with high reiatsu—do not. It’s most pronounced once a shinigami has learned their zanpakuto spirit’s name, but it is possible for a skilled sensor to detect how close someone is to attaining shikai simply by the feel of their spiritual energy,” she explained. “It’s a very subtle change, but judging by the feel of your reiatsu, you’ve been able to access your spirit world for quite some time—I’d wager since before you arrived to the Seireitei. Am I wrong?”

I stared at her for a moment—holy shit, her sensory abilities bordered on scary—before replying.

“I—only recently. I’ve been having these…dreams for months, but I’ve only been able to access my spirit world once or twice voluntarily,” I admitted. “And I can hear my zanpakuto spirit’s voice sometimes too, but only when I’m stressed or in danger.”

 I bit my lip in frustration, thinking back to my latest visit to my soul world. I’d somehow managed to get lost in my own freaking mindscape, and my zanpakuto spirit had been nowhere to be found. At this point, the only thing I was sure of was that it—she?—had wings. At least the leaves were growing back; the whole thing with Akiyama had caused some of the trees to shed their leaves.

 “Do not be discouraged, Yukimura-san. From what you have told me, you are even further along than I had expected.” Unohana motioned for me to take the sword. “Well? Take a look. It’s yours.”

Reaching out hesitantly, I grasped the hilt—dark blueish purple with a silver-white diamond pattern—and pulled it free from its sheath before inhaling sharply. Acting on instinct, I channeled my reiatsu into it, watching as the silver metal seemed to shimmer slightly in response. Turning back to Unohana who was watching me with an almost proud expression on her face, I slipped my sword back in its sheath and bowed deeply, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Thank you, Unohana-taicho. It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Take good care of it,” she smiled. “Remember, a zanpakuto is more than a weapon. In the future, it’ll become your partner as well.”

***

“So you’re the brat taicho asked me to show around?” A tall blonde man greeted me as I walked out of Unohana’s office, peering at me over the top of his glasses. “Yukimura Hisana?”

“That’s me,” I answered uncertainly. I wondered how he got his hair to stay swept back like that…did hair gel exist in the afterlife? There wasn’t any in Inuzuri, but that wasn’t saying much. “Are you Iemura Yasochika?”

“You will address me as Iemura-senpai or ‘sir’ during your time here, understood?” He said in response, making a note on his clipboard. “There is no room for any disrespect here.”

“Yes, Iemura-senpai,” I forced out, feeling one eye start to twitch. This was the guy I’d be following around for the next few months?

“Good.” He looked me over before letting out a derisive snort. “Hn. I thought that you’d be taller. This might be a problem—I’m not certain if they even make uniforms in your size.”

A vein started pulsing on my forehead, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself that strangling my superior probably went against a few rules. First Gin, now this bastard—at this rate, I’d probably get an aneurysm by the end of the month.

***

“Oh no.”

Iemura paused from where he was going over the protocols for filling out paperwork as I suddenly flinched violently.

“Is something the matter?” He asked irritably. I wasn’t paying attention anymore—all my focus was on the door behind him, where I could feel a familiar reiatsu signature fast approaching. It was kind of sad that meeting Ichimaru Gin had done more to motivate me to hone my reiatsu sensing skills than living in the Rukongai ever had. I didn’t know _why_ he was so interested in me—seriously, our interactions basically consisted of us exchanging increasingly insulting remarks—but I was really hoping that he got bored soon. Bumping into him three times a day wasn’t doing anything good to my stress levels.

“Hisana-chaaaan!” As Iemura’s face suddenly grew tight at the sight of the silver-haired third seat, I wondered absently what Gin had done to earn such a fearsome reputation. Actually never mind, just being _Gin_ was probably enough.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me so familiarly,” I said, annoyed. Why did I have to be the one to attract all the psychopathic weirdos? “Besides, what are you even doing here? Don’t you have recruits to torment, children to terrify?”

Gin grinned, completely unflustered by my irritated tone, and placed one hand against his chest in a wounded gesture. “My, my, Hisana-chan. Such serious accusations against my character. Be careful now—if I were a lesser man, I might be insulted.”

“I notice that you didn’t deny it,” I retorted without missing a beat. Gin pouted, adopting a mournful expression.

“I’m hurt that ya think I’m capable of such heinous acts, Hisana-chan. I’d never go out of my way to torment those under my control.”

“I doubt that you’d need to ‘go out of your way’ to do that. Seeing your face is probably enough,” I said dryly. Behind me, Iemura made a choking noise. “Now, do you have a health-related issue that needs attending to? I can’t imagine why else you would be here.” _Do you actually have a legitimate reason for being here or are you just wasting my time?_

Judging by the slight sharpening of his smile he caught my unspoken question, but being Gin, chose to ignore it with his usual aplomb. Typical.

 “What? I’m not allowed to visit my favorite Academy student? Although I see that ya got rid of the schoolgirl look. Shame, that. Though I gotta admit, ya look very…fetchin’ in that nurse’s outfit.” He made a vaguely obscene twirling gesture with one finger, leering at me. Creep. “Quite mature—little schoolgirl all grown up.”

I stared. “Are you saying that I look old?” I asked finally, feeling oddly offended.

Iemura, who’d opened his mouth to say something, suddenly broke out into another coughing fit. Gin let out a startled huff of laughter, the faintest hint of amused exasperation crossing his features.

I scowled, not understanding what was so funny. “You didn’t answer my earlier question, Ichimaru-san,” I grumbled. “Did you have a medical concern that you wanted to address?”

“Hmm...now that you mention it, I’ve been having these headaches lately. In fact, I feel one comin’ on right now,” Gin said, tilting his head. He glanced towards Iemura and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach as Gin’s focus shifted from me towards the blond. “I’ve been thinkin’ about getting them checked out for a while—they’ve been affecting my work, and I’ve been pretty worried. Today’s the first time I’ve had the chance to, though.”

“Could you describe the severity of the pain you’ve been experiencing, and what part of the head it’s localized in? Also, can you give me an estimate of how frequently these headaches occur?” Iemura asked, voice abruptly turning serious.

“Eh—I’d say abou’ three times a week? Sometimes more, sometimes less,” Gin said with a tiny shrug. “It tends ta happen around here,” he tapped the back of his head. “As for the pain…well, that’s a stupid question. I wouldn’t come to ya if it wasn’t serious now, would I?”

Iemura stilled, faltering for a moment. “O-Of course, Ichimaru-sama. I apologize for my imprudence.” His voice shook slightly. “With your permission, I’d like to run a diagnostic spell on you.”

Gin was silent for a moment, studying Iemura through narrowed eyes. I could see the faintest sheen of sweat beginning to form on Iemura’s forehead.

“Fine,” Gin relented finally, just as I was about to step in. “If I must.”

Iemura nodded shakily, before raising his hands—covered in a green glow—to Gin’s face. Pursing my lips, I decided that learning how to heal without skin-on-skin contact was one of the first things I wanted to do.

After several tense minutes, Iemura stepped back with a frustrated expression on his face. “I-I don’t understand—your brain activity is normal, there are no signs of inflammation, and you’re perfectly healthy…” He trailed off, muttering to himself while flipping through his journal. “Maybe…but no, that can’t be it…I couldn’t find any pain signals…” Gin let out a heavy sigh, cutting him off.

“So what you’re saying is that ya don’t know what’s causin’ it, and ya don’t know how ta treat it,” Gin concluded. “Is that correct?”

Iemura flinched, bowing his head. “Yes, Ichimaru-sama.”

Gin tilted his head to the side, studying Iemura with an air of detached interest. “Tell me, what is your name and rank, officer?”

“Fifth seat, Iemura Yasochika,” Iemura answered immediately. I had to give him credit—at least he’d managed to keep his voice steady.

Gin’s smile widened. It wasn’t friendly in the least.        

“Tell me, Iemura Yasochika…would you say that a Fourth Division fifth seat should be able to treat somethin’ as minor as a headache?”

“Yes, Ichimaru-sama,” Iemura answered. An ugly flush was crawling up the side of his neck. Gin hummed in acknowledgement.

“Now then…can you tell me why ya weren’t able to find a solution to my problem? Or do anythin’ about it? That _is_ what you’re supposed ta do, right?”

“No, Ichimaru-sama. I have no excuse,” Iemura said quietly. A child would have been able to hear the shame in his voice.

Gin leaned forward, his voice laced with the sweetest poison. “So this is the best that the Fourth Division can offer me. A healer of your caliber,” he shook his head mockingly. “Disappointing.”

“There was nothing to find!” Iemura burst out suddenly, before suddenly shrinking back in on himself. “I- I mean…”

It suddenly became difficult to breathe as the air in the room grew thick with the force of Gin’s reiatsu. Something dangerous crossed his features and I swallowed heavily, for the first time able to see exactly why Aizen would one day choose Ichimaru Gin as his second in command. A bead of sweat started trickling down Iemura’s forehead.

“Are you callin’ me a liar now, fifth seat Iemura Yasochika?” Gin asked softly.

“I’d like to try,” I said suddenly, unable to watch any more. Both Gin and Iemura started, as if they’d forgotten that I was there.

“Yukimura?” Iemura asked, blinking. I ignored him, turning to face Gin.

“Ichimaru-san, you wanted an answer to your headache problem, correct? Let me try.”

“Ya believe that ya can do better than a fifth seat?” Gin asked, amused. I tilted my chin up defiantly.

“Iemura-senpai is a better healer than me, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t offer a different perspective,” I said firmly.

Gin chuckled, crossing his arms behind his head. The oppressive aura surrounding him lightened, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Iemura slump in relief. “Well, why not? Ain’t like blondie here can do any better.”

“Right. I’m going to ask you some questions—please answer them as honestly as you can,” I began briskly. “First of all, have your sleeping cycles changed at all recently?”

“Not really. Not sleepin’ any more or less than I used ta,” he answered cheerfully, grin back on his face.

I didn’t bother pausing before going on to my next question. “Have you been eating regular meals?”

“Sure.”

“How much water do you drink per day?”

“Eight cups, more or less.”

“Have you been experiencing any stress or anxiety lately?”

“Not any more so than usual.”

This went on for about another five minutes, while I listed off every factor that could possibly cause chronic headaches off the top of my head, while Iemura stared back and forth between us with wide eyes. I could tell the exact moment that Gin got bored, since he sat up and asked, “Not ta be rude, but is there a point ta all these questions? I’m a busy guy, ya know.”

“Of course. I’m sorry for the trouble.” I stepped forward, placing one hand on his forehead and scanning for abnormalities in his brain, strained muscles, unusual substances in the blood, and problems with the major blood vessels, especially the ones concentrated towards the back of his skull. I didn’t find anything unusual, but then again, I didn’t expect to. “There’s just one last thing I want to check.” I leaned forward until my face was right in front of his. “Open your eyes,” I said softly.

Iemura inhaled sharply somewhere behind me. Even Gin seemed a bit taken aback.

“What?”

“You heard me,” I said without pausing. “Some of the first signs of brain abnormalities can be discovered through observation of the eyes, so if I missed something in the diagnostic scan…” I shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to be thorough. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” he said—the faintest mocking edge to his smile—before his eyes slid open, revealing pale, blue-green irises. I didn’t let myself react, instead checking for abnormalities in pupil sizes or increased intracranial pressure. Letting out a sigh, I stepped away. I’d been 98% sure that Gin had been bluffing just to watch Iemura get more and more flustered about diagnosing a nonexistent condition, but it was nice to have my theory confirmed.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ichimaru-san,” I said. “I think I see what the problem is now.”

“Oh?” Gin asked interestedly. I nodded seriously.

“You possess a rare factitious disorder known as pseudologia phantastica syndrome,” I said calmly. Otherwise known as pathological lying, but he didn’t need to know that.

 It took all of Kaori and Tatsuya’s training for me to keep a straight face. Absently, I wondered if I was getting in over my head, telling Gin that he was full of shit, albeit in a roundabout way. Oh well, too late now.

“It causes your mind to come up with delusions in place of real events, believing them to be the truth. At times, however, these hallucinations conflict with each other, causing the headaches,” I continued in my best professional voice.

Slipping on my most sympathetic expression, I added soothingly, “It’s quite a debilitating condition and unfortunately, to the best of my knowledge, no cure has been discovered yet. However, it is possible to reduce the symptoms through repeated use of blunt force trauma to the back of the cranium.”

Behind Gin, Iemura was watching with a pained expression and clenched fists. He looked about two steps away from lunging forward to shut me up. I couldn’t blame him—this was probably not the best of times to suddenly grow a pair of balls. Still, it had…frustrated me, to see how easily Gin was able to punch through Iemura’s defenses, effortlessly exploiting his weaknesses and insecurities, pitting his ridiculous trust in authority figures against what his instincts and knowledge were telling him…I may not have liked the authority-worshipping stick-in-the-mud, but he didn’t deserve that.

“So you’re telling me ta get rid of my headaches…by havin’ someone hit me a buncha times in the back of the head,” Gin looked vaguely disbelieving at my audacity. “And also that I’m crazy and that I have a habit of makin’ things up.”

“You are, of course, welcome to take this issue to Unohana-taicho herself—since you seem so uncertain about the competency of the other healers here—if you have any doubts about what I’ve told you,” I said sweetly. “I’m sure that she will corroborate my findings, but you are free to check.” He wouldn’t, of course. Going to Unohana for a made-up headache? Even Gin wasn’t that suicidal.

_Your move,_ I thought, just _daring_ him to call my bluff. A flash of…something crossed his features before he managed to erase it. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that it was respect. But I _had_ caught him off guard—he hadn’t actually expected that I would call him out on his bullshit—and I would take that as a victory.

“I think I’ll take your word for it this time.” Before I could leave, he reached up and grasped my shoulder. “Not bad, Hisana-chan,” he murmured, leaning down so that his lips were right by my ear. “My apologies for doubtin’ ya. I won’t do so again.”

***

“Are you _insane?_ ” Iemura hissed as soon as Gin was out of earshot. “What were you _thinking?_ ‘Pseudologia phantastica syndrome?’ Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

“Well, it didn’t look like you were going to call him out on his bullshit,” I muttered sullenly. Iemura ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.

“When a patient comes to you complaining of a medical problem, you do not get to tell them that they’re wrong,” he growled.

“I didn’t say that he was _wrong._ I said that he was full of shit,” I protested. There was a difference. Really.

Iemura let out a frustrated groan.

“Are you always this stupidly reckless?” He muttered under his breath before continuing. “And if he was telling the truth? If he really was experiencing headaches? What then?”

I leveled an unimpressed look at Iemura. “You don’t believe that, Iemura-senpai,” I said flatly. He let out a deep sigh.

“No. I don’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that we _could’ve_ just missed something. And until Unohana-taicho herself confirms the diagnosis, you are not to doubt the words of a patient ever again,” Iemura said, voice hard. “What do you think would happen if we started dismissing our patients’ concerns just because we couldn’t find anything wrong? Unohana-taicho seems to have faith in your abilities—god knows why—and I’ve been a healer for over fifty years, but no healer knows everything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Iemura-senpai,” I said, slightly ashamed.

He was right—it _had_ been rather immature of me to do that. And normally, I would have taken a patient’s complaint much more seriously—at the very least, I would have run some deeper tests—but this was _Gin._ The very fact that Gin had actually mentioned his headaches tipped me off that something wasn’t right. Because Gin didn’t strike me as the type of guy who ever went to someone else for help. For fuck’s sake, he took on Aizen completely alone and left Matsumoto completely in the dark about his plans. He’d never admit a weakness to anyone, let alone one as mundane as a couple headaches. As paradoxical as it might sound…the only health issues I’d be concerned about Gin having were those that he _didn’t_ mention. Something told me that Iemura wouldn’t be impressed by my explanation though.

Iemura’s face relaxed slightly at my response. “Good,” he said gruffly. It didn’t quite hide the hint of concern in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Be careful around Ichimaru, Yukimura. He…he’s not someone you want to get on the bad side of.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, Iemura-senpai,” I said faux-casually. “Ichimaru-san just wants someone to play with. And besides, he won’t do anything to me until he’s figured me out.” Something that I seriously doubted would happen anytime soon. Ichimaru Gin may be a genius, and he may have seen through the act I’d put up upon meeting Aizen, but even he couldn’t come up with something as fantastically absurd as me remembering my prior life from the future in a different dimension.

For some reason, Iemura didn’t look reassured in the slightest.

***

I twitched as a familiar black cat casually sat down on my essay about the differences between bakudou, hadou, and chiyudo spells.

“Shihouin-taicho. You are sitting on my homework,” I said, voice flat. “You are getting _cat hair_ on my homework.”

“Unohana-taicho said that you were over here,” Yoruichi grinned, completely ignoring me. I sighed, accepting the fact that Shihouin Yoruichi would do anything she wanted, and no amount of complaining, pleading, or glaring would stop her. “Get up, kiddo. Byakuya-bou wanted to show you something and I have twenty minutes to do something about the ink smudges on your face, the mess that is your hair right now, and the fact that you smell like…” She leaned in and took a sniff. “Medicine and cleaning supplies.”

“Byakuya’s coming?” I asked, straightening up in my chair. Yoruichi sent me a knowing look and I flushed. “I-I mean--” I cleared my throat. “I do not smell like cleaning supplies, and also, I need to get back to work.”

“Oh no you don’t. I’m tired of seeing Byakuya mope around like a sulking kitten because he hasn’t see you in…oh, two days or so. And to be honest, you look like you could use a break too. Come on—I have under half an hour to make you presentable and I’m not going to waste a second.”

***

“ _This_ is your compound?” I asked in disbelief, taking in the sight of ponds filled with brightly covered koi, elegantly arched footbridges, and the rows upon rows of cherry blossom trees that filled the air with a pleasant, sweet scent.

“Do you like it?” Byakuya asked, sounding almost…shy?

“It’s beautiful, Byakuya. Everything about this place is beautiful,” I said, tilting my head up towards the sky and inhaling deeply. A gust of wind blew through, ruffling my hair and causing a few pink flower petals to fly through the air. Giving a short laugh, I twirled around with my arms spread out. “God, I never want to leave.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Hisana,” Byakuya murmured, studying me with warm grey eyes.

Glancing at him, I grinned. “That’s good, because now that you’ve shown me this place, you’re going to have to kick me out in order to get rid of me. Now come on—I want to see the famed Kuchiki fish I’ve heard so much about.”

Grabbing his hand, I began tugging him towards the bridge, ignoring the indulgent smile on his face. So what if I wasn’t acting mature? I was allowed to be childish sometimes. Leaning over the side of the railing, I peered at the sight of brightly patterned fish swimming amongst the water lilies, vibrant flashes of color against dark green water.

“They’re huge,” I said in surprise. Each one was bigger than the size of my head.   

“They should be. Each one is over fifty years old. The oldest are almost two hundred,” Byakuya said, coming to stand beside me. He hesitated before pulling out a piece of bread from inside his kimono. “You may feed them if you like.”

Beneath me, the fish were already starting to swim up, clearly expecting to be fed. I tossed a few crumbs down, feeling a bit of childish delight as I watched the fish compete over the food.

“Do they have names?” I questioned, leaning over the side of the bridge to get a better look.

“Not to my knowledge,” Byakuya admitted.

“Hmm. Well, we can’t have that. Everyone deserves a name,” I stated firmly. Pointing to a brilliantly colored red koi with black streaks down its back, I declared, “I’m naming that one Renji-fish.”

Byakuya coughed. “Renji? What makes you say that?”

“Doesn’t it look like him? It’s the same color as Renji’s hair, plus it’s eating more than all the other fish combined.”

“I can’t argue with you there, although I’m sure that Renji would disagree.” There was a note of quiet amusement in his voice. “And what about the others? What names will you grant them, Hisana?”

“Well, that white fish is _obviously_ a Rukia,” I stated, pointing to a rather dainty looking fish with pure white scales. It promptly stole a breadcrumb from the Renji-fish and I grinned. “Look! There’s even a Miwa fish. See? The silvery blue one.”

The first few names we agreed on. An energetic blue and black fish was dubbed Kaien. Both Byakuya and I agreed that the speckled red and black fish that kept nipping at the Kaien-fish was definitely Kukaku. I named a pale blue fish Mitsuo, and the black-speckled koi that kept subtly sneaking off with the crumbs that the other fish missed was _clearly_ Kaori. By the time we got to Yoruichi however…

“Look! It’s swimming circles around all the other fish! How is that _not_ Shihouin-taicho?”

“You are mistaken. The hellcat is clearly the one lazing under the sun over there. See—it even has whiskers,” Byakuya said stubbornly. In the back of my head, I absently noted how absolutely ridiculous this conversation was. I still had no idea why people were intimidated by Byakuya—the guy was a complete dork. A dork who still sulked every time he was reminded that Yoruichi was faster than him.

“Oh for—fine, I’ll give you that one. But Unohana-fish is _obviously_ the orange and black one. She’s like a tiger—all grace and beauty but if you mess with her she’ll bite your head off,” I argued.

“Do you not see how all the other fish are avoiding the silver one? They’re all terrified of it.”

“No, that one’s Ichimaru Gin. Look, it even has his creepy smile.”

“When did you meet Ichimaru Gin?!”

“At orientation,” I dismissed, before brightening up again at the sight of a previously-unnoticed jet-black koi hiding behind a lily pad. “Oh wait, hey—I think I just found your fish counterpart!”

“The black one?” Byakuya eyed it closely before nodding in approval. “Yes, that fish does have a rather noble demeanor. Simple, classic, reserved...”

“What? No, I just meant that you have the same grumpy, brooding face,” I said, before covering my mouth with one hand to hide my smile at Byakuya’s almost comically offended expression.

“I do not _brood,”_ he protested sullenly.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to deny it—I understand,” I said soothingly. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I looked him dead in the eye and continued in my most serious tone, “Unohana-taicho told me all about how broodingitis, a condition characterized by excessive angst levels as well as an inability to form normal expressions, is hereditary in the Kuchiki clan. It’s genetic—I know you can’t help it and I just want you to know that I don’t care about your condition. I’ll be your friend anyway.” Byakuya jolted back, taking in my solemn expression with wide eyes. My lips twitched.

“Wha—Hisana, you _jerk,”_ he cursed, realization dawning. I suddenly lost my battle to keep a straight face, breaking into peals of delighted laughter.

“Oh my god, your _face,”_ I gasped out, leaning against his side for support.

“You’re horrible,” Byakuya grumbled, although I saw the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m sorry. Look—I’ll make it up to you. Or, fish-you at least. Here.” Breaking off a few crumbs, I tossed them over to where Byakuya-fish was. He took one look at the crumbs in front of him before somehow managing to give off an unmistakable impression of disdain and pointedly turning away.

“Okay, _wow,”_ I muttered, staring in disbelief after a long moment of silence. “Fish-you is kind of an asshole.”

“That fish seems to agree,” Byakuya said, pointing to a rather pretty koi with shimmering gold and white scales that swam up and lightly bumped into the Byakuya-fish, as if scolding it. I brightened up again.

“Hey, that can be me!” I said excitedly.

“Hn. Well, the size fits at least,” Byakuya said, a faint smirk settling on his lips.

“Wha—Oi!” I protested hotly, just now realizing that the newly dubbed Hisana-fish was only about half as big as the Byakuya-fish. “Will you stop it with the height jokes already? I’m not that short,” I grumbled, half-heartedly smacking his chest with one hand. “I’m just surrounded by giants.”

“Is that so?” Byakuya asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded seriously. “I’m the only normal one out of all you weirdos. It’s a tough life.”

“And what’s that like? Being ‘normal’?” Byakuya asked, playing along. I grinned.

“I’ll show you.” I hopped up onto the bridge railing, carefully standing up while sticking my arms out to balance myself. “How’s it feel being shorter than me, Byakuya?” I teased.

Byakuya stepped forward, eyes widening in alarm as I wobbled slightly. “Hisana, be careful, you’re going to fall—”

“Give me some credit,” I scoffed. “I’m not going to fall. Besides, even if I do, I’m not worried. After all, I have you there to catch me, right?” I asked lightly, memories of being on a rooftop watching the sunset crossing my mind. That night seemed so long ago.

Something in Byakuya’s eyes softened and he reached out to grasp my hands in his own. He stared down at our joined hands for a moment before tilting his head up to look at me. My breath caught at the almost reverent expression on his face. “Of course,” he said softly. “I’ll always be there to catch you.”

 It sounded like a promise.                      

***

Gin Interlude

 

“It’s not like you to take an interest in an Academy student, Gin,” Aizen remarked as Gin flicked through the files of newly accepted student Yukimura Hisana. It had been all too easy to nick them from the Academy. _Really,_ Gin thought, shaking his head, _the security of this place. Shameful._

“Ya mean Yukimura?” Gin leaned back in his chair. “Wouldn’t call it an _interest,_ per say. It’s just fun messin’ with her.” His smile widened as he recalled the sight of blazing violet eyes, narrowed with defiance. It was always more enjoyable when his toys fought back. They didn’t break as easily then. “Has spirit, that one.”

“Do be careful. She seems to have quite the guard dog in the form of the Shiba clan head,” Aizen said, amused, before pausing thoughtfully. “Still, it might be wise to keep an eye on her. She is obviously fairly close to the 13th Division lieutenant, and, if rumors are to be believed, Kuchiki Byakuya and Shihouin Yoruichi as well. Quite the social butterfly there…she might have some potential,” Aizen mused.

“Will do,” Gin grinned, offering up a mock salute before getting up as he felt a familiar reiatsu signature approaching. “Gotta go. Taicho’s back.”

“What did you do this time?” Aizen asked exasperatedly. Gin shrugged innocently.

“Somethin’ about ‘playin’ around with new recuits bein’ bad for our recruitment drives’. Dunno what he’s so upset about. Taicho should be thankin’ me for weedin’ out the weak,” Gin said lazily, timing his exit just before Hirako Shinji turned the corner.

Whistling to himself as he walked down the division, he thought back to his second meeting with Yukimura Hisana. Her wariness towards him—well-hidden it might have been behind a thick layer of sarcasm and irritation—was perfectly understandable. Gin knew that he came off as a bit…unsettling to some (most) people. Her reaction towards _Aizen_ however…

Aizen might have missed it—the man’s confidence in his act bordered on arrogance, and for good reason. For the past couple hundred years, the only person other than Gin himself who seemed to have sensed something amiss with the Fifth Division lieutenant was Hirako Shinji.

It had been quick, Gin admitted. If he hadn’t been observing Yukimura at the time, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. However, no matter how quickly she recovered or how relaxed she’d seemed throughout the rest of the conversation—that move she’d pulled with the father-of-my-child thing had been genius—he knew what he’d seen.

He thought back to the moment when Shiba had called out Aizen’s name. As Aizen turned away to greet him, Yukimura had staggered almost imperceptibly, her eyes widening—and Gin had seen a flash of pure, unmistakable terror cross her face.

Which was as fascinating as it was inexplicable. A poor, politically insignificant girl from the outer districts of the Rukongai would have no reason to have come into contact with Aizen Sousuke. He’d checked—Inuzuri wasn’t a district Aizen had ever conducted any experiments in. So what was it about learning Aizen’s name that had caused her to react in such a way? What reason could a newly admitted Academy student, who hadn’t even been in the Seireitei for a month, have to fear one of the Gotei 13’s most renowned, respected and admired officers?

Gin stroked the file in his hand with one finger, his smile widening a notch. It was just as well that Aizen had ordered him to keep an eye on her, really. After all, he’d always liked mysteries.


	19. Chapter 19

Almost two weeks into my internship at the Fourth, and I was making absolutely no progress towards mastering the reiatsu transferring technique.

“No, no, you’re still not getting it. Remember, the objective is to _give_ your reiatsu to another person; unless you manage to purify it, their body will reject the foreign energy,” Iemura said in the midst of mopping the floors of the Third Division headquarters. Surprisingly enough, I found that I really didn’t mind the cleaning duties that came with my job. It was a nice time to bombard senpai with questions.

 “That makes no sense! Yes, I get that the reiatsu needs to be pure in order for the transfusion to work, but I can’t just _get rid of_ the properties that make it _mine,”_ I said in frustration, waving my sponge in the air. “It’s like trying to turn Type A blood into Type O blood—you can’t just go around removing all the A-antigens on the surface of the red blood cells…oh, never mind,” I added grumpily upon seeing the incomprehension in Iemura’s eyes.

The problem with being thrown into the past was that I was never entirely sure how advanced the medical knowledge of the time was. Not to mention that there was often a lag between when something was discovered in the living world, and when that information arrived in the afterlife. The technology was even more baffling, a mix between weirdly advanced (just look at Squad 12), and completely ass-backwards (we communicated through _butterflies)._

“Your issue is, you’re still thinking of your reiatsu as a physical thing and it’s not. What makes your reiatsu _yours_ , as you put it, isn’t anything tangible; it’s your resolve, your emotions, your goals. I understand why this is difficult for you to grasp since from what I’ve seen, you’re used to forcing your reiatsu to do your will. Your way of healing revolves around _intent_ , and this technique involves taking that all away. It’s one of the ways general healing kido is so different from the other branches of kido spells.” Iemura paused, dipping his mop in the bucket. “Despite how simple the technique may sound, it’s not easy. It’ll take time and effort—it usually takes a few months to get the basics down, and years to master. Keep meditating, you’ll get it eventually.”

“I’ve tried!” I exclaimed, scrubbing at the window with one hand. “And I’ve been meditating for decades, but I can’t seem to get my reiatsu to become _empty_ no matter what I do.” Iemura stopped and set his mop against a wall, turning to look at me.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said simply. “You focus too much on what you _want_ to happen—you can hardly purify your reiatsu if you’re subconsciously infusing it with your desire to succeed, or if you’re worrying about whether or not it’s going to work. Don’t _try_ to purify your reiatsu. When you reach that state of calm focus where you’re undistracted by any emotions, just…let your reiatsu flow. It’ll come naturally.”

I took a moment to process his words silently. The reiatsu transferring technique…it wasn’t only about mastering a skill, it was about mastering a _mindset._ And didn’t that say something about just how different the Fourth was from the other divisions? The other squads taught their members how to channel their resolve, how to focus their feelings into something deadly. The Fourth Division did the opposite, teaching its members how to distance themselves from their emotions. How to be neutral, how to be objective, how to be fair.

I could understand why. A healer couldn’t afford to become overwhelmed by their feelings during times of crisis. And in an organization like the Gotei 13, it would be…dangerous for a healer—someone would be required to see death on a regular basis—to care too much.

Still. I couldn’t imagine _not_ feeling anything towards a patient. If you became too detached, what was left to motivate you to help them?

“We’re just about done here,” Iemura said, interrupting my thoughts. “If you’re ready to go?”

“Sure, senpai,” I agreed, walking over and wringing out my sponge over the bucket of dirty water. “On Thursday we have sewer duty, right?”

I still didn’t know why Iemura looked at me strangely whenever I mentioned wanting to go into the sewers. Like hell I was going to pass up gaining first-hand knowledge on an underground network of tunnels under the Seireitei that only a handful of people were privy to.

“You make no sense, Yukimura,” Iemura sighed, grabbing the bucket and the mop. “Come on. We’re done for today.”

“Wait, really? Are you free now? Because I wanted to ask you some questions—”

“What a surprise,” Iemura muttered under his breath as we started to walk out. “You always have questions.” I grinned cheekily. For all the grouching and complaining that he did about me ‘constantly bothering him’, I knew that he didn’t really mind. He always answered, after all.

“I can’t help it. You’re a really good teacher, senpai,” I said earnestly, watching the tips of his ears turn pink. For all his bluster and apparent arrogance, he was rather painfully insecure at times.

“Che,” Iemura huffed, turning the corner. “Well, I suppose I can spare a few minutes to indulge your incessa—oof!” He grunted as he was shoved to the floor, the bucket clattering to the ground and spilling dirty water everywhere.

“Oops,” a voice said mockingly. Cruel black eyes set in a scarred face glinted. “That’s too bad. Guess you should’ve looked where you were going, huh? Maybe you should get new glasses; those ugly ass ones don’t seem to be doing anything for you.” Iemura flushed an ugly brick red and I bristled.

Next to scar-face, a shinigami with slicked back brown hair and purple framed glasses sighed heavily. “Troublesome,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Otoribashi-taicho doesn’t need to see this mess.” Turning hard eyes on Iemura, he added, “Well? You heard the man. On your hands and knees—I want this floor to be spotless by the time I get back.”

Iemura slipped into a bow, the resigned expression on his face telling me that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. “I’ll get this cleaned up right away. My apologies, sir.” He tugged at my arm. I didn’t budge.

“Excuse me?” I said sharply as the second shinigami turned to walk away, ignoring Iemura’s frantic, stop-talking-now motions. “Seeing as your comrade was at fault for this in the first place, would it not be more prudent for _him_ to clean this up?”

The shinigami paused. “What did you say?”

“I’m just saying, it seems rather unfair to expect Iemura-senpai to clean up this mess,” I pointed out reasonably. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The other shinigami—the one with the scar across his face—laughed harshly. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing—”

“You may want to get that checked out, then,” I cut him off, deliberately misunderstanding his words. “Having hearing problems could be detrimental on the battlefield, I’d suggest a visit to the Fourth.” Turning back to the glasses-wearing shinigami as scar-face gaped at me, I tilted my chin up a fraction. “Well?”

“Is that not his job as a Fourth Division shinigami?” He replied, seeming a bit annoyed now.

“Funny—I don’t recall a slavery clause being listed anywhere in the job description. Must have missed that part,” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

The brunet definitely seemed unamused now. “I can’t tell whether you’re stupid or suicidal, girl,” he said, face hardening. “I’m telling him to clean the mess up because that’s all that he’s good for, aside from slapping some bandages onto papercuts. And unless he wants to get hurt, he’ll do what I tell him to.” There was the barest hint of a threat in his tone, warning me to back down. “Do you understand now?”

I smiled pleasantly, a complete contrast to the sudden icy _fury_ I could feel unfurling in my chest. “I must be stupid then, because I don’t. I really, really don’t. For some unfathomable reason, you seem to think that our job is easy, that we’re replaceable—worthless—and that you can treat us like shit because of it. But someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe a century in the future, you’re going to get hurt. You’re going to get hurt really badly, and you’re going to feel yourself bleeding out, and as you suffer in _agony_ trying to keep your innards from falling out, the only thing keeping you from certain death will be a Fourth Division member…and chances are, it’ll be someone you spat on in the past. And unless they’re a freaking _saint,_ they’ll remember every single time you made them feel like something less than human, and when you need them the most…well…” I shrugged, tone still deliberately light, eyes never wavering from the shinigami’s slightly widened yellow ones.

“Please, help me understand, because I’m just not getting it. What could you possibly gain from disrespecting those charged with keeping you alive?” There was a hushed silence as my voice rang out into the corridor. Absently, I noticed that a small crowd had formed.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Iemura interjected, a note of panic in his voice. “Forgive her, Fifth Seat Kibune, Ninth Seat Shinta, she’s new. Yukimura, apologize,” he said harshly, one hand trying to force my head down. “I said, _apologize.”_

“Might wanna listen to your senpai there, girl,” the scarred bastard who’d started this whole mess—Shinta—said. “I’m feeling generous today. Say sorry, get down on your knees and start scrubbing, and maybe I won’t cut that tongue of yours out.”

My eyes narrowed, although my cordial smile didn’t waver. “I’m sorry that your mother never taught you how to clean up your own messes, Shinta-san. It must be so difficult being a grown man that has to rely on others to clean up after them. And I’m so sorry for the both of you that the education system failed you so badly that you can’t tell the difference between being a warrior and being a bully. You have my deepest pity.”

The expression of rage that flashed across Shinta’s features was all the warning I received. Reaching up with one hand, I caught Shinta’s wrist in a bruising grip inches before his hand would have hit my face. My reiatsu responded eagerly to my anger as I commanded it to seep under his skin, beneath muscle and into bone, creeping into every miniscule crack and crevice. His arm began to glow a faint, sickly green where my fingers touched his skin.

“Don’t you _dare,”_ I breathed out, voice low, “raise your hand to me.”

As his other hand twitched towards his zanpakuto, I commanded my reiatsu to expand slightly, like ice exerting force on the cracks in pavement. There was the faintest creaking sound as his bones began to fracture under the pressure. A grunt of pain escaped his mouth, and for the first time I saw something resembling fear in his eyes. Before that fear could turn to panic and cause him to lash out, I released his wrist. “This is your only warning. There won’t be another.”

“What is going on here?” A sharp, commanding voice demanded. I looked up to see the blond Third Division captain scanning the room, his eyes lingering on the way Kibune had one hand on his zanpakuto as he eyed me warily, Iemura’s tense posture, the mess on the floor, and the way that half a dozen or so other shinigami were steadfastly avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing, Otoribashi-taicho,” I said, stepping back. “Shinta-san was just cleaning up his mess.” Without another word, I turned and marched out the door.

***

“You _idiotic girl!”_ Iemura yelled as soon as we were safely back in the Fourth Division headquarters. A nearby healer _meeped_ and ran out the door. I wondered how long it would take for half the Fourth Division to come running to eavesdrop. Whatever. Let them listen in—at this point, I was beyond caring.

“You—you!” For once, Iemura seemed at a loss for words, speechless with fury. Despite that, the fear in his eyes was very much real. “Have you no sense of self-preservation? You’ll bring the anger of the entire Third Division down on our heads!” I didn’t respond. I didn’t trust myself to right now. “You immature brat! Do you have nothing better to do than look for trouble? This whole thing could have been avoided!”

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the casual respect people unthinkingly directed towards medics. Maybe it was the snide comments I got yesterday at the Academy when asked what I did on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons (“You have to work at the _Fourth?_ Wow, who’d you piss off? Tough luck—I’d sooner kill myself than work there.”). Maybe it was the way that being a Fourth Division member seemed to be synonymous with being a failure.

Because healing was something I took pride in, something that I’d worked my ass off to be able to do. And it _stung_ that it was so casually disregarded at times here, even by the other healers themselves.

“Avoided, Iemura-senpai?” I let out a harsh laugh. “How? By bending your neck like always, letting them walk over you? How is that supposed to help?” I fixed him with a sharp look. “I know that the Fourth Division isn’t a combat squad, but _fuck_ if I’m going to let people treat me like dirt because of that. And don’t give me that crap about ‘doing our duty’ or ‘maintaining a respectful professionalism’, because there is a difference between being doing your job and letting someone degrade you, and this entire squad does the latter, and it’s _pathetic!”_ We were arriving at the root of my anger now, because the other reason I was upset wasn’t just what the other squads did. It was what the Fourth Division _didn’t do._  

“I get that the world isn’t fair, I’m not stupid. It’s impossible to get everyone’s respect and there are always going to be people who are bastards to you no matter what you do, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not wrong, or that you should just accept it! But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Every time you bow your head, or go along with the flow because it’s the ‘easy way out’ and let them get away with it, you’re telling them that they’re right. That it’s okay for them to treat you this way.”

Staring into Iemura’s slightly shell-shocked eyes, I said coldly, “Maybe you have your own way of doing things, but me? I refuse to give anyone permission to disrespect me.”

***

“This is the greatest day ever,” I said happily, watching yet another stuck-up pompous asshole point his hand towards the target, gather his reiatsu, and then curse as his kido spell blew up in his face. “Kido is the _best.”_ After a month of nothing but memorizing various incantations and spells, we _finally_ got to actually practice (not that I hadn’t been secretly sneaking in kido lessons at the Thirteenth with Eiji and the Murakami cousins, but practicing at the Academy was _different._ I got to watch the people who sneered condescendingly at me and Isane on a daily basis crash and burn. It was _fantastic.)_

“I think you may be getting a bit too much enjoyment out of this, Hisana-san,” Isane said exasperatedly, as her spell once again fizzled out harmlessly before reaching her target. She turned towards my mostly-demolished target. “How are you getting it so easily?”

“Well…practice, mainly,” I said, thinking back to how I’d spent the past few weeks bribing various Thirteenth Division members with baked goods to give me tips. “But also, you need to get into the right mindset, Isane-san. For the kido spell to work, you have to have a clear image of what you want it to _do._ It’s all about intent.” I extended my left hand again. “I’ve found that it sometimes helps me if I put some emotion into the spell. For example, I picture my target as some smiling close-eyed asshole who won’t leave me alone. Then, I think about how much I _really, really_ want to hit that asshole in the face with a bolt of lightning and knock that smirk off his face. And how much I want it to _hurt._ Then, when I look at the target, I imagine that I’m looking at said asshole and—Hadou #4: Byakurai!” I cried out, a crackling, twisting bolt of electric blue energy snaking from my palm to the target where it impacted with a satisfying explosion, leaving behind a scorching hole the size of my fist.

Isane stared at me for a long moment. “You can be kind of scary, Hisana-san.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “Don’t worry—you already have your basics down, like how to shape your reiatsu, and control your energy output,” I explained. “It’s directing the spell that you’re having a bit of trouble with, because you’re still not quite sure what you want it to do—aside from hit the target—or how destructive you want it to be. Make sure to picture your desired result clearly in your mind before letting go of the spell, and you should be fine with a bit of practice.”

Isane huffed softly before resuming her battle-ready stance. Her next attempt—while still a bit unfocused—contained far more force, impacting the wooden target with a sharp _clap_ and causing a few fragments to fly off _._

“That was a lot better!” I said encouragingly. “Just wait, you’ll be a kido expert in no time!” She looked down, a faint blush forming on her cheeks.

“I—I pictured Matsushita-sensei that time,” Isane whispered. “H-he made a student _cry_ the other day,” she added, voice abruptly turning fierce. “Just for being a few seconds late, and he’s always so…so _mean_ and if anyone deserves a lightning bolt to the face, it’s him.”

I startled, taken aback by the unexpected ferocity in her soft voice. Isane blinked, apparently just registering her own words. “I—I mean--” She stammered. “I’m sorry, that was disrespectful of me, I shouldn’t be saying such things about a teacher--”

“Disrespectful?” I laughed, an involuntary smile curving my lips. “Isane-san, I couldn’t be more proud.”

I was in the Fourth Division kitchen fixing myself a late dinner when the door opened, revealing an upset looking nurse, face stained with tears and top slightly askew.

“Tsukuda-san?” I asked, after a moment of recalling her name. Tsukuda Ayame, seventh seat of the Fourth Division. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh!” She startled at the sound of my voice, turning to look at me with reddened eyes. “Yukimura-san. I’m fine, why do you ask?”

 _Because you look like hell,_ I didn’t say. “Mmm, I suppose you seem a bit stressed right now,” I said gently, observing the way she started pulling out numerous ingredients from the cupboard. “Making something big tonight, are you?” I probed.

“What? Oh, this?” She motioned towards the flour, eggs, and sugar she’d pulled out. “It’s not for me. It’s for Fujimoto-sama—Room Eight,” she added, upon seeing my uncomprehending look. “He—he’s very particular about what he’s willing to eat.” Tsukuda’s voice wavered slightly.

I stilled. “Oh?” I asked, faux-casually. “I take it he wasn’t too happy with the standard meal?”

She swallowed and gave a barely noticeable shake of her head.

I smiled kindly. “Well, maybe I can help. I know a few things about cooking, and between the two of us, I’m sure we can come up with something that Fujimoto-san will be satisfied with.”

Tsukuda sent me a grateful look, hair shifting to the side. My lips thinned as I noticed the fresh, raw-looking, bruise-like mark on the side of her neck, but otherwise gave no reaction. “So what did Fujimoto-san request?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

“He—he said that he wanted cake. For him and his friends,” Tsukuda said, voice small. “It’s to be vanilla-flavored with raspberry filling, and caramel sauce on top.” I paused, fingers tightly gripping the bag of flour I was in the process of opening.

“A cake, huh? He does know that we’re not a hotel service, right?” I asked, unable to keep the faintest bite of sarcasm from my voice. “Does he always make such high demands?”

“I-I know that it seems r-ridiculous,” Tsukuda admitted, fingers adjusting the edge of her skirt. “I’ve been assigned him a few times, and at first I tried telling him no, but then he’d just…” Her hand drifted up, subconsciously lingering on the side of her neck. My eyes sharpened.

“You know what, Tsukuda-san? Don’t worry about the cake; I’ll figure something out. You’re obviously tired,” I said quietly. “Go take a warm bath and go to bed, okay? I’ll take over for you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t let you--!” She exclaimed. If I’d had any doubts remaining about exactly what had gone on between Fujimoto and Tsukuda, they were erased by the sudden _fear_ in her eyes. “Yukimura-san, you…”

“It’s quite alright, Tsukuda-san. It’s no trouble; I wasn’t busy anyway,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding the worry in her tone. “Just promise me one thing?”

“I—what is it?” she said, hesitantly.

“I know that we’ve all had to deal with difficult patients at some time or another. But if a patient is bothering you or anyone else and he refuses to stop…” My gaze lingered on the rumpled collar of her uniform, before drifting back up to her eyes. Tsukuda stiffened and a moment of understanding crossed between us. “Would you let me know?”

There was a long moment of silence before Tsukuda tilted her head forward in an almost imperceptible nod.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“You—you won’t tell taicho, will you?” Tsukuda blurted out, looking slightly frantic. “I—she already looks out for us so much, defends us against the other squads and I don’t—I don’t want her to have to worry about this too.” _I don’t want her to be ashamed of me._

My gaze softened. “I’ll keep what happened tonight between us,” I promised. “Don’t worry.”

Tsukuda relaxed a fraction, turning to go. Just before she reached the door, she looked back at me. “Be careful, Yukimura-san,” she said, biting her lip. “Don’t—don’t do anything rash.”

“Of course not. All I’m going to do is bake Fujimoto-san a cake. Nothing more, nothing less,” I said, turning back to the ingredients on the counter. Raspberry, huh? I could do that.

I’d bake him a cake he’d never forget.

The Fourth Division kitchen was relatively well-stocked, and had far more ingredients than my kitchen back home, but it didn’t have everything. _A pity,_ I thought, staring down at the squishy red pulp dripping down my hands. The lack of corn syrup had resulted in the raspberry filling being far more fluid than I would’ve liked, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about that. Studying the round yellow cake, I drizzled caramel sauce along the top of the cake in a haphazard fashion. Like that, it almost looked like a mop of brown hair—similar to the straw-like hairstyle I vaguely remembered Fujimoto sporting.

Well, the cake was already in the general shape of a head. Might as well follow through with it. Humming softly to myself, I grabbed two big, round grapes from the refrigerator—never let it be said that I didn’t value healthy foods—and stuck them on top of the cake, under the caramel sauce. Taking a moment to study the cake critically, I shook my head. That wouldn’t do—the grapes would roll right off, and the caramel sauce wasn’t sticky enough to use as a makeshift glue. Grabbing a carving knife from the drawer, I then proceeded to stab the grapes into the cake. Stepping back, I smiled in satisfaction as the ‘eyes’ sunk into the dessert—they’d stay put now.

Of course, I still needed a mouth and nose. If I had more time, I might have been able to come up with something a bit more creative, but as it was…well, I was sure that Fujimoto-san wouldn’t want to be kept waiting for much longer. Taking the knife, I carefully carved out a nose from a piece of pineapple, before cutting a hole in the cake to stick it in. The mouth I messed up on, originally planning to cut a thin line. It was a bit too wide to be called a ‘line’ now, but I suppose as things went, a slightly open ‘mouth’ wasn’t a big deal. Grabbing the pitcher of raspberry sauce, I proceeded to add the final touches—that is, I carefully poured the red liquid into the crevasses making up the eyes, nose and mouth—before setting the plate in a box.

Perfect.

 “Well, it’s about time,” an arrogant voice said as I knocked gently on the door before heading in. There were three other people with Fujimoto, and the man in question looked up from the bed at my approach before frowning. “Who are you?”

“Tsukuda-san wasn’t feeling well and so went home. I offered to cover for her,” I said politely, setting the box with the cake down on the bedside table. “I do hope that it is to your liking,” I added, opening the box with a flourish.

Fujimoto choked as he took in the grape-eyes, ruptured and seeping red liquid, the raspberry sauce overflowing from the nose and mouth, making it look like the face was bleeding from each orifice, the way that the face was twisted in an expression of unimaginable agony. There was a clatter as one of the other shinigami fell back in his chair. A strangled sound came somewhere from my left.

“Wha—what the hell?” Fujimoto sputtered. “What is the meaning of this?”

My brow furrowed in false puzzlement. “It’s the cake you requested, Fujimoto-san,” I said innocently. Inserting a note of distress into my voice, I added, “Is it not made to your specifications?”

“It is rather…unique,” one of the other shinigami commented faintly. I beamed, eyes curving into happy crescents.

“I did add in some personal touches that I thought were fitting. I guess you could say that I was feeling particularly… _inspired_.” Picking up the carving knife with a flourish—it was a beautiful knife, the steel glinted nicely in the light—I proceeded to cut into the cake. It slid through easily with a wet _squelch_ and Fujimoto’s face paled.

“Eat up,” I said, my voice dangerously soft as I cut Fujimoto a generous slice of cake. The grape rolled off the cake with a soft plunk, revealing punctured skin peeled back to show milky insides doused with red. Fujimoto looked like he was going to be sick.

Turning to the other shinigami in the room, I smiled cheerfully. “Don’t worry, gentlemen, I haven’t forgotten about you!” _Thunk_ went the sound of the knife as I stabbed it viciously into the cake, causing more of the raspberry sauce to flow out. A few drops splattered onto my uniform. “There’s plenty to go around.” The shinigami on my left—the one who’d spoken up before—accepted his cake wordlessly, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the crimson goo staining my shihakusho.

Just before I turned to go, I tilted my head to stare Fujimoto dead in the eye. “Oh, and Fujimoto-san? One more thing,” I said mildly. The gentleness in my voice didn’t quite hide the ice layering it. “Place your filthy unwanted hands on Tsukuda Ayame or any other Fourth Division member again, and I will personally ensure that you don’t have the hands to do so a third time.”

Taking in the slightly-terrified, shell-shocked faces of the shinigami in the room with a kind of vicious glee, I slipped into a mocking bow.

“Enjoy your dessert. After all, you deserve _every bit_ of it.”

The soft pitter-patter of red juice dripping from my knife to the floor was the only sound present as I left the room.

***

“Taicho, you wanted to see me?” I asked a bit nervously as I walked into Unohana’s office. Before she had a chance to say anything, I took a deep breath and blurted, “Look, if this is about me using all the raspberries the other day—or using up all the wasabi yesterday—I’m really sorry and I swear that I’ll repla--” I cut myself off sharply as I noticed the blond haired figure on the other side of Unohana’s desk.

“Ah,” I said weakly, slipping into a bow. It was a lot harder to meet his gaze when I wasn’t distracted by blind rage, I was finding. “Otoribashi-taicho. I hope you are well?” In retrospect, threatening a ninth seat in a room full of witnesses may not have been my brightest idea. Not that I regretted it, but I suppose it did seem a bit…excessive.

At the very least, I probably didn’t need to threaten to shatter his arm into itty-bitty pieces. Maybe I should have gone with ‘temporary paralysis’ or something.

“Quite,” he said, expression faintly amused. “And you, Yukimura-kun?” Was it normal for an Academy student to have so many captains know their name? I really hoped that it was normal.

It probably wasn’t normal. Goddammit.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” I said politely, before glancing uncertainly at Unohana. She motioned for me to sit down.

“I understand that there was an altercation between you and some Third Division members the other day,” Unohana said. “Seeing as we take interdivision relations very seriously, this was a cause for some concern. Would you like to explain to Otoribashi-taicho what happened?” She looked at me expectantly.

I coughed, wondering if there was a polite way to phrase ‘so your asshole ninth seat shoved Iemura-senpai down which caused him to spill his bucket and then your asshole fifth seat expected us to clean it up and then he implied in a really asshole-ish way that the entire Fourth Division’s sole purpose was to be punching bags of the other squads and honestly, your entire squad is full of assholes and you should do something about that’.

I really needed to work on my public relations skills.

“Ninth seat Shinta bumped into Iemura just as we were about to leave, which caused Iemura to drop his bucket—which was full of dirty water at the time. Fifth seat Kibune ordered Iemura to clean up the mess. I…disagreed,” I said, as diplomatically as I was able to. “Things then escalated slightly.”

Honestly, I had been—mostly—polite, up until the point where that glasses-wearing dick Kibune had said that all we did was ‘slap some bandages onto a few papercuts.’ If he’d said that in front of _Unohana,_ his body probably would have been found in pieces the next morning. In comparison to that, I thought that my response was perfectly justified.

“Escalated is one word for it,” Otoribashi murmured. “You’re quite troublesome, you know that?”

I met his gaze steadily. “He insulted the Fourth Division. Furthermore, he insulted my senpai and my profession, which is something that I take a lot of pride in. I couldn’t let that pass.” I relaxed slightly as a glimmer of something that might have been approval passed through his eyes. It didn’t look like he was angry, thank god. Getting fired would have put a bit of a damper on my resume.  

“Well, I can hardly punish someone for standing up for themselves. Don’t you agree, Otoribashi-taicho?” Unohana said cheerfully. “However, while I understand defending yourself, I would remind you that we do have a professional reputation to maintain. Don’t think that I haven’t heard the stories about you and Ichimaru Gin.”

I flushed, all thoughts of keeping my calm forgotten. “He’s always the one who starts it!” I protested hotly. “He’s always in here trying to fluster me! Did you know that he came here last week requesting that I check him for an STD, of all things? An _STD!”_ There was a slightly hysterical edge to my voice now, but I still hadn’t quite recovered from Ichimaru Gin telling me to inspect his _penis._ Fortunately, after the tranquilizer incident Iemura had actually banned me from treating Ichimaru unless there was literally no other option, so I’d gotten out of that one. “Like anyone would consent to sleep with that creepy snake-faced bastard in the first place, they’d probably be traumatized for _life_ \--”

“Did he really?” There was no mistaking the note of amusement in Unohana’s voice. I scowled.

“You make _one_ comment about how you think he’s overcompensating with that ridiculous shikai of his, and suddenly he’s in your exam room trying to prove you wrong,” I grumbled, folding my arms over my chest. This was what I got for gossiping with the other nurses (apparently one of them had gone to school with him and had been there when he’d activated it). How the hell had he even found out about that conversation, anyway? Creep.

An odd wheezing sound distracted me from my thoughts, and I looked up in concern to see Otoribashi choking on air, face turning red.

“Otoribashi-taicho, are you all right?” I asked. Why did people always seem to have sudden coughing fits around me? Kaien had them, like, twice a week.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Are your days always so…eventful?” He asked, finally regaining his ability to breathe.

“I have no idea why people think working at the Fourth is boring,” I confessed. “I mean, we don’t go out on missions and fight hollows, but we have to deal with _all thirteen divisions.”_ Honestly, I wasn’t surprised at all that everyone and their grandma would try to destroy us at any costs in the future. I’d been here just over a month and already I wanted to strangle half of these bastards.

Now that I thought about it, it was probably a bad sign when you started sympathizing with your enemies for wanting to kill your own allies.

“You may have a point,” Otoribashi admitted, a wry look on his face. “Well. I should be getting back to my office or else Chikane-san will yell at me again.” He winked at me. “Don’t worry about any retaliation coming from my members. I’ll make sure that they don’t bother you again. They shouldn’t have been treating a lady so rudely in the first place—especially one whose job is to ‘keep them alive,’” he parroted my words back to me.

“Thank you, Otoribashi-taicho,” I murmured. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d only promised to do something regarding their treatment of _me,_ but…it was a start. Small steps.

***

“You’ve gotten better,” Byakuya said, observing my rows of semi-neat characters. We probably weren’t supposed to use his private office as a place to continue our calligraphy lessons, but no one had said anything yet. Probably because they hadn’t really noticed—it never failed to amaze me how invisible I became as soon as I put on my Fourth Division uniform.

“See? I _told_ you I’ve been practicing!” I beamed proudly from where I was sitting on his desk, legs swinging back and forth.

“Yes, I see that you’ve mastered legibility. I can even read all the characters now,” Byakuya deadpanned. He chuckled as I smacked him on the arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Hisana. This is wonderful—you’ve truly improved a lot.”

“That’s more like it,” I grumbled half-heartedly, not quite able to keep the smile off my face.

“I particularly like the ink drawings you added at the bottom.” The approval in Byakuya’s voice was unmistakable as he leaned forward to study them closer. I groaned.

“You’re such a bad influence. I can’t believe that I actually started subconsciously doodling Seaweed Ambassador pictures when you were busy with your paperwork,” I muttered, glaring at the paper. From this angle, they kind of looked like lumpy clouds. Ridiculous-looking lumpy clouds with faces drawn in.

“Well I, for one, am glad to see that you’re finally coming around. An ability to appreciate proper art _is_ something that I require of all my friends,” Byakuya said, mock-solemnly. “Now you just need to work on not getting ink all over yourself. How did you manage to splatter ink all over your face anyway?”

“It’s a talent,” I said, letting out a dramatic sigh. “According to Iemura-senpai, I have the ‘uncanny ability to make a mess no matter what situation I’m in.’”

“Well, I can’t argue against that. It’s part of your charm, I suppose,” Byakuya said, amused, as he reached out with one hand to cup my face. His thumb lightly brushed over my cheekbone, where I could feel ink drying on my skin.

His hand felt so very warm.

There was something…heated in Byakuya’s eyes as he looked at me, the air between us suddenly feeling charged, heavy, as he gently tilted my head closer. I bit my lip harshly, trying to calm my racing pulse.

Steel gray eyes darkened as his gaze drifted down to my mouth. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said softly, thumb swiping down to free my bottom lip. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

His lips were slightly parted. It would be so, so easy to just lean forward and—

I turned my head away, causing Byakuya’s hand to drop from my face.

“Hisana, I—” He spoke up hoarsely, voice almost raw. “I’m sorry, that was improper of me—”

“It’s nothing.” I offered Byakuya a shaky smile. It was all I could manage right now.

He cleared his throat. “You should clean up before the ink dries completely. There’s a bathroom just across the hall,” Byakuya said awkwardly.

“Right,” I answered, feeling as uncomfortable as Byakuya looked right now. Hopping off his desk, I made sure no one was in the hallway before quickly ducking into the bathroom. Heading straight to the sink, I splashed cold water against my face, scrubbing the ink stains off.

“What am I doing?” I whispered to myself, burying my face in my hands. A part of me knew that Byakuya and I should probably talk about the…whatever the hell was going on between us, but just the act of acknowledging it out loud would cause things to change between us. It would require us to _do_ something about it, and right now I…I didn’t think Byakuya was ready for that. I didn’t think _I_ was ready for that.

By the time I felt ready to head back to Byakuya’s office, I had mostly recovered my composure and had slipped on a friendly, entirely-platonic smile. Byakuya looked up as I entered the room, apparently having regained his usual calm demeanor.

“I forgot to mention something earlier,” he said. “I’ll be leaving on a long-distance mission the day after tomorrow.” My composed mask slipped for a second, and I felt eternally relieved that he was too busy focusing on his paperwork to notice the disappointment that flashed across my face.

 “You’re leaving?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. It was silly to feel so upset—back when I’d still lived in Inuzuri, Byakuya was often gone for months at a time—but…I’d gotten used to having him around.

“For two weeks,” Byakuya said as his eyes softened, apparently sensing the hidden dismay in my tone. He really was getting to know me too well. “A routine check-up to the outer districts of the Rukongai. South Rukongai, to be more specific.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “It’s about time I checked up on those kids of yours, anyway. I’ll be leaving in three days, so if there’s anything you’d like for me to take there…” I perked up, the disappointment lightening.

“I—yeah,” I said distractedly, thinking about the letters I’d need to write. Rukia and Renji would want to know what the Academy was like; that alone would probably take up several pages. Miwa would want to know about my internship…I should probably slip in some money to help Mitsuo out with his dojo too, as well as ask him how Kazuki and Kaori’s relationship was going.

“Just don’t write too much. I don’t think that I could carry a dozen books with me,” Byakuya lightly teased.

I huffed. “I wouldn’t write _that_ much! Maybe a few dozen pages, but that’s it! And I can see you laughing at me—this is a perfectly acceptable response!”

“I wouldn’t dare laugh at you, Hisana,” he said, expression perfectly serious. “Especially given the stories I’ve heard about you lately. Did you really yell at the Third Division fifth seat? I overheard Otoribashi-taicho talking to Unohana-taicho yesterday about some Fourth Division member who apparently threatened to break a seated officer’s arm for offending her.”

“Why would you think that that was me?” I asked, insulted. I mean sure, it _was_ me, but he didn’t know that.

“He also described the Fourth Division member as sharp-tongued and that she had a bit of an authority problem. Also, he said that she was—how did he put it? Ah yes. ‘Quite diminutive in size, if not temper’,” Byakuya finished, smirking. “It’s not every day that someone from the Fourth yells at a fifth seat from another division…you’re building quite the reputation among certain people, Hisana.”

I groaned. “Just so long as they don’t come up with some stupid nickname for me again,” I grumbled, thinking back to my time in Inuzuri. Seriously, what was up with that ‘Angel of Inuzuri’ stuff? It sounded so pretentious.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too worried about that. So far, you seem to just be known as ‘that short healer with the even shorter temper’. A fairly accurate description, I must say,” Byakuya said, eyes glinting with humor.

“At least my nickname isn’t _hime,”_ I shot back.

“Only you call me that!”

***

“Guess who!” A voice sang out as cold, dry hands covered my eyes. A second later, Gin stumbled back as I elbowed him in the stomach, hard. With my other hand, I grabbed my plate of dango and set it on my lap, out of reach of any annoying, sneaky, fox-faced _thieves._

“Go away,” I grumbled, scowling at him.

“So cold, Hisana-chan,” Gin said, clutching his stomach in exaggerated pain. “ _You’re_ particularly grumpy today. Wake up on the wrong side of bed?” A sly edge crept into his voice. “Or are ya just upset ‘cause your boyfriend’s away?”

I tilted my head to the side, slipping a confused expression onto my face. “Boyfriend? The last time I checked, I was still quite single. I’m sure I would have remembered agreeing to date someone.” Rule number one of dealing with Ichimaru Gin: Never, _ever_ show any sign of weakness.

“That’s not what the rumor mill is sayin’. Do tell, because I’m oh so curious—what _is_ going on between you and Kuchiki-fukutaicho?” Gin asked, sliding into the chair across from me. I rolled my eyes, popping another dango into my mouth.

“What always happens between two individuals who like spending time with each other. It’s called ‘becoming friends’. I’m sure even you are aware of the concept, Ichimaru-san,” I said dryly. At this point, I’d given the ‘we’re just friends’ speech so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep. “And if you want to gossip about my nonexistent love life, you can do it somewhere else. Like your own division. Which happens to be several blocks away.”

Gin made a face. “That’s no fun. All the people there are so _dull,”_ he complained.

“Not my problem,” I said, turning back to my notebook. Absently, I doodled a tiny fox being chased by a spider-squid-centipede hybrid hollow with razor sharp teeth. It made me feel better.

The lack of snarky reply from Gin made me look up, frowning. I barely resisted the urge to groan when I saw that he had gone completely still, gaze fixed unerringly on a giggling couple in line at the dango stand.

“You really need to get a better hobby,” I muttered. “What did that poor couple ever do to you?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Hisana-chan. Where else am I supposed ta get my entertainment?”

I sent him my most unimpressed look. “See, this is why I try to avoid you at all costs. _Normal people_ don’t find psychologically torturing innocents an acceptable pastime.”

“ _Normal people_ are boring, Hisana-chan,” Gin said, turning back to face me.

 “You don’t find _me_ boring,” I pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “And _I’m_ normal.”

Gin threw back his head and laughed, a note of genuine amusement in his voice. The people sitting at the table next to ours sent him terrified looks, scooching back nervously. I couldn’t blame them.

“Oh, my dear girl,” he chuckled, sounding almost…fond? “Let me assure ya, since your self-awareness is so sadly lacking: you are _very_ far from normal.” I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not, so I settled on my default reaction of glaring at him. “I told ya the first day we met, didn’t I? Ya put on a good show, but ya ain’t as innocent as ya try to act.” He leaned forward, gaze predatory. “Don’t deny it. Part of you likes seein’ people scared of ya.”

“I like it when people take me seriously enough that they don’t mess with me. There’s a difference,” I insisted. Gin’s gaze turned almost pitying.

“Oh? From what I’ve been hearin’, ya almost crippled a Third Division member. Seems a bit excessive, dontcha think? Half the division’s terrified of ya now.”

“He tried to hit me. Was I just supposed to stand back and let him do that?” I asked sharply. Gin leaned back, a satisfied look on his face.

“That. Right there. Ya don’t back down easily, do ya Hisana-chan? It doesn’t matter if it’s a captain, a lieutenant, or some random guy from another division; if ya see omething’ ya disagree with, you won’t just stand by. You’ll _do_ omething’ about it and damn the consequences.” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I wonder, what would ya do if someone threatened someone you loved?” My eyes hardened.

“I’d make them regret it,” I said coldly. There was no uncertainty in my voice. Gin’s eyes slid open a fraction, something darkly approving flashing across them.

“You really mean that. I suppose we have that much in common, at least,” he murmured. “You’d do everything in your power to completely destroy them, wouldn’t ya?”

I shifted uncomfortably, not liking this sense of…understanding between us. Because while objectively, I knew that Gin’s plan to protect Matsumoto was rather extreme, there was no telling what I’d do if someone hurt one of my family members in Inuzuri. If someone hurt Byakuya, hurt _Rukia._

Maybe Gin had a point. Since the night that Tatsuya and Horio had died, I’d killed multiple times. And while I may have felt ambivalent about killing Akiyama, never once had I regretted any of those deaths. And the thing was, most of those people hadn’t actually gotten close enough to do any harm—I probably could have figured out a way to spare their lives—and yet I’d killed them anyway. But it wasn’t like that was unusual, was it? That had been in Inuzuri—there was little room for mercy that far out in the Rukongai.

“You’d burn the whole world down in order to keep those you truly care about safe,” Gin said softly, almost as if he’d been reading my thoughts, pale blue-green eyes intent on my face. “Hisana-chan, you are _anything_ but normal.”

***

Growing up in Inuzuri had taught me many things. Including how to swear creatively and profusely. Normally I was pretty good about censoring myself, but…

“Goddamn…fucking piece of—argh! Nitwitted son of a multi-tentacled hollow!” I cursed as the reiatsu string extending from my pointer finger blew up _again._ Putting my poor, burned finger in my mouth, I sucked on it sulkily.

“I still don’t get why you’re so determined to do this. I mean, trying to limit reiatsu output to one finger is hard enough, but trying to form a string of reiatsu thin and flexible enough to be easy to maneuver, yet strong enough to lift up physical objects with ease?” Eiji asked, shaking his head. “Good luck. I don’t even think Byakuya-sama can do that.”

“Oi Eiji, shut up. Please Hisana, do continue. It’s quite inspiring,” Hiro said, jotting something down in a notebook. “Nitwitted son of a multi-tentacled hollow…that’s a good one. My favorite is still ‘gerbil-fucking twatwaffle’ though. Or maybe ‘shit-dwelling fucknugget.’” His voice shook from holding back laughter. “Who would’ve thought that you had such a dirty mouth?”

“Are you _writing them down?”_ I asked incredulously, burn on my hand completely forgotten. Hiro nodded sagely.

“Of course. This is too good to pass up.”

Deciding to ignore him, I instead channeled healing reiatsu to my injured hand, speeding up all cellular activity in the area. It was a bit like watching a sped-up video, and I studied my hand with interest as the dead cells flaked off, new cells taking their place. I still had a bit of trouble using general healing kido on other people, but when it came to myself, I’d found that it required _far_ less concentration than my usual technique.

Once I’d finished, I went back to channeling reiatsu through my finger, focusing on pushing my spiritual pressure out. A thin, barely-visible strand of blue energy extended from my pointer finger about two feet before my control wavered and the string destabilized. At least I didn’t end up with yet another reiatsu burn that time.

“I don’t get it,” I muttered, staring at my hand in frustration. “I mean, Hado #9 does essentially the same thing, but on a larger scale, right? Why is this so much more difficult?”

“Hado #9 forms a thick rope of energy that extends from the user’s hand. It doesn’t require nearly as much finesse as this,” Eiji said, amused. “Come on, Hisana-san, tell us—why are you so determined to get this down?”

“Lots of reasons. To prove to myself that I can. So that in case I lose my sword in battle, I can just extend a reiatsu string and grab it. So that I can subtly trip those who annoy me. Take your pick,” I muttered. Like hell I was going to admit that I’d spent the past few hours working on this technique just in the hopes that someday, I’d have a reliable way of reaching things in tall places.

“You just want a way to reach things in tall places, don’t you?” Eiji asked knowingly. I flushed, looking away as Hiro laughed, loud and bright. See, this was the problem with having friends. They ended up knowing you way too well.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hiro said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. No concept of personal space, that one. “If you actually manage to pull it off, it’ll be really cool.”

“Pull what off?” An unfamiliar voice asked. I looked up startled to see Ukitake Juushiro, captain of the Thirteenth Division, enter the room. My eyes narrowed slightly as I took in his appearance. In the anime, aside from periodic coughing/fainting fits, Ukitake had seemed relatively normal in physical appearance. But looking at him now, well…it was obvious that he was suffering from a pretty serious condition. The unhealthy pallor to his face, the faint bags under his eyes, the weariness written all over him, the thinness of his body that his haori couldn’t quite hide…

I’d treated all kinds of people in Inuzuri, of course. But this—this went beyond simple physical injury or malnutrition. He almost reminded me of how I’d looked after first starting chemo. I didn’t like it.

A sharp nudge to my side broke me out of my thoughts, and I found Hiro giving me a pointed glance. Belatedly, I realized that Ukitake was a captain which probably meant that I should’ve been bowing, and not, you know, diagnosing him with my eyes.

“Ah,” I coughed sheepishly, standing up and slipping into a hasty bow. Well, this was off to a great start. “Ukitake-taicho. Um, Eiji-kun and Hiro-kun were just discussing a reiatsu control technique with me. Uh, if we were bothering you, I can leave--”

“I see,” he said, cutting off my nervous babbling. An amused look crossed his face as I bit my lip, feeling my face heat up. Fuck this, he was the—what, fifth?—captain I’d met by now. Shouldn’t this whole ‘meeting freakishly powerful people’ thing be getting easier? “You are a healer?”

“Yes,” I said, startled. “How did you know?”

“That look on your face when I first walked in. Like you were half a second away from demanding that I get into bed with a bowl of hot soup and ordering that I stay there until I started looking healthier. I’ve only seen that look on various healers and my mother,” Ukitake chuckled, shaking his head. Next to me, Hiro let out a muffled cough that did nothing to hide his snigger. If I hadn’t been standing in front of a captain, I would have elbowed him.

“I—I didn’t mean--” I began, completely mortified. If I kept this up, my nickname would probably be ‘the human tomato’, given how hot my face felt right now. “Well, _yes,_ a bowl of hot soup definitely wouldn’t hurt but honestly fresh air and taking a daily walk outside would probably do you more good than a nap, and it would have the added benefits of energy balance, hormone regulation, and improving--” _Fuck,_ this was so not the time to be going into doctor mode. Cutting myself off, I swallowed heavily and promptly debated running out the door. Probably wouldn’t make it far. Dammit.

“Anyway,” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “It was nice to meet you, Ukitake-taicho, and, uh,” I stalled, trying to come up with a way of saying ‘sorry for the word vomit,’ “I know that you didn’t ask for my medical opinion, and I apologize for inflicting that upon you. It’s a bad habit, I’m afraid.”

“Not at all,” Ukitake laughed, waving off my apology. “Relax, you did nothing wrong.” His gaze lingered on Eiji and Hiro. “I assume that you are the healer Kaien has befriended then? The one he met in South Rukongai?”

“Yes?” I answered hesitantly as Eiji nodded in confirmation beside me. Ukitake smiled, the faint lines on his face lessening as he did so.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you for a while now. Kaien talks about you quite often, did you know?”

“Does he?” I didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Yes, he mentioned that he helped you prepare for the Academy entrance exam. He said that you were quite a diligent student, and that you completed the training mission he’d assigned for you admirably--”

“Anything he tells you about that mission is a complete and utter lie,” I blurted out in sudden panic. That jerk, he’d promised not to say anything! “I failed completely because the task he assigned was _impossible_ and the cat thing never happened because I just gave up and went home, and Shihouin-taicho definitely wasn’t involved, because that day never happened. Really.”

There was a long silence during which everyone just stared at me. Hiro had an interested gleam in his eyes that was faintly unsettling. Eiji looked curious too, but was far better at hiding it, which was somehow even more unsettling. Ukitake…Ukitake just looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Kaien simply told me that you came up with an impressively creative solution to a difficult problem. Is that incorrect?” Ukitake asked, voice carefully even. There was a definite glint of humor in his eyes. I closed my eyes briefly, wishing that the floor would just swallow me up already. Someone might as well just hand me a shovel at this point, given how I kept managing to dig myself deeper.

“It’s a long story,” I said finally through gritted teeth.

“One that I would dearly love to hear someday,” he chuckled, before taking mercy on me and changing the subject. “But anyway, you were all working on a reiatsu control technique earlier? Which one?”

“Hisana-san came up with it. She saw me perform Hadou #9: Horin during a spar earlier and was inspired by it. She’s been trying to figure out how to create reiatsu strings all morning,” Eiji explained.

“It’s a work in progress,” I admitted. I either ended up with weird inflexible energy rods coming out of my fingers or weak strands that disintegrated upon contact with an object. Or small explosions. That happened a lot too.

“Oh?” Ukitake looked intrigued. “May I see?”

I nodded before directing my reiatsu down my arm, towards my hand, and concentrating it at the tip of my finger. As it began glowing a faint blue, I concentrated on pushing that energy out even as I simultaneously focused on shaping it into a thin string. It wasn’t easy—the energy fought against my control, wanting to expand, to flow freely—but slowly, steadily, a shimmering pale blue thread began extending from my finger. This time, I managed about three feet before it broke.

“It’s harder the longer it gets, because there has to be a steady flow of energy down the entire thread. It’s delicate enough that if one part has more energy than another, the entire thing destabilizes,” I explained, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I’m currently trying to work on increasing the energy output without sacrificing the maneuverability or thinness of the threads, but I’m having a bit of trouble balancing the concentration it takes to further condense my reiatsu with the focus it takes to maintain an unfluctuating energy flow.”

“You could try taking a break,” Hiro grumbled. “You’ve barely stopped since you’ve started three hours ago.”

I shrugged; taking a break was the last thing on my mind right now. “The technique’s useless if the strings break every time they touch something.”

“Hmm, you’re right about that,” Ukitake murmured, looking at me speculatively. “The technique is mentally taxing because you need to focus on two things at once, correct? Then I would start with some easier control exercises—work on being able to maintain a constant, steady reiatsu flow; once you’ve mastered that to the point where you don’t even need to think about it, you can concentrate on the condensing aspect of the technique.”

I thought about that. He had a point. Still, there was no concrete way of knowing how stable my reiatsu output was, unless…

“At the Academy exam…they had these machines, where the proctors could test our reiatsu control,” I began hesitantly. “Do you…do you know if it would be possible for me to use one of those?” Ukitake hummed thoughtfully.

“I believe that they are normally in the possession of the Kido Corps when they’re not in use by the Academy, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to obtain one for practice.”

I brightened, mood lifting. “That’s fantastic! I’ll see if I can submit a request through the Academy or something. Thanks for your help, Ukitake-taicho!” I’d try the technique again once I managed to get a Level 10 in under a minute or so. Last time, it’d taken me around twelve minutes to get there.

I paused for a moment as I considered something else. “And, uh, sorry for blowing up a bunch of your training dummies during kido practice. And for um, accidentally killing a bunch of trees here last week. Shiba-fukutaicho gave me permission to use your training grounds, but I should’ve been more careful,” I apologized sheepishly.

I hardly ever practiced at the Academy anymore outside of official lessons. The instructors were…weird about me experimenting with kido spells. And about me trying out higher level spells that I’d bugged Hiro, Chiyo and Eiji to show me. There were always a few teachers obnoxiously hovering around—something about ‘making sure I didn’t blow myself up.’ Honestly, they had no sense of scientific ambition; how was I supposed to improve if I wasn’t allowed to test the limits of the spells I was working on?

“Don’t worry about it,” Ukitake laughed, brown eyes warm, and yes, I could definitely see why Squad 13 idolized this man. “That’s what they’re there for, and a bit of property damage is expected when training. Feel free to continue using the training grounds, Yukimura-kun—we’d be happy to have you.”

***

This was pathetic.

“You’re pathetic,” Kukaku said flatly, echoing my thoughts as she stared at her brother in disgust. “You disgrace the Shiba name.”

“Shut up and help me out! Miyako finally agreed to a date with me, and I still haven’t decided which flowers to give her!” Kaien wailed, straightening his hair in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time.

“You’ve already been dating, this is just the first time you’ve made it official,” I muttered. “And I still don’t understand why I’m here, or why you had to drag me over at _seven in the morning_ for your date that starts at _five in the afternoon._ On my one day off, to boot. Don’t you know any other girls you could ask for advice besides me?”

“Well sure, I have a lot of female cousins, but I’m clan head. I can’t let them see me freaking out like this—do you have any idea what that would do to my reputation?” Kaien said, looking at me like this fact should be obvious. “I somehow have the majority of them convinced that I actually know what I’m doing most of the time. Like hell I’m gonna risk that.”

“So you pick me instead. Joy,” I said dryly, resisting the urge to yawn. About the only good thing that came out of this was that I got to visit Tonton. The piglet was currently nestled in my arms, fast asleep. _Lucky girl_ , I thought enviously, thinking back to my warm, comfortable bed in the Fourth.

“What are you worried about anyway? You like her and for some reason she likes you back, and your clan has no laws against you dating a commoner. As far as I’m concerned, you already have the first steps down,” I pointed out. Judging by the sharp look Kukaku sent my way, I didn’t quite manage to keep the hint of wistful envy out of my voice.

“I know that, but this is _serious,_ Yukimura! I can’t afford to mess this up!” Kaien waved his arms, cutting Kukaku off just as she opened her mouth to say something. A genuine note of panic flashed across Kaien’s eyes. “I…I really like her. And it’s not just because she’s incredibly beautiful and kind and smart and--” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kukaku make gagging motions. “—and completely _wonderful,_ but I can really see myself with her, you know? Like I imagine us doing the most boring stuff, like taking long walks and feeding ducks and eating breakfast together and--”

“Oi, idiot,” Kukaku snapped, the last of her patience evaporating. “I’m just going to say this once, so shut the hell up and listen. No relationship is perfect, and no matter how hard you try, you’re going to mess up. Both of you are. But that doesn’t matter; what matters is that neither of you give up on each other. And that you care enough about your relationship to put the effort in to fix things. So stop worrying about making mistakes because screwing up is unavoidable. What you _should_ be focusing on is showing Miyako that you care about her, that you want a relationship to happen, and that you’re willing to _try._ Besides,” Kukaku added, staring disinterestedly down at her nails as Kaien gaped at her, “you’re not a _complete_ loser—you’re related to me, after all—so you can probably make this work. Maybe.”

Coming from Kukaku, that was practically a glowing endorsement of Kaien’s virtues.

“Imouto…” Kaien said, apparently struck speechless. In response, Kukaku picked up one of the two bouquets of flowers laying on the bed and chucked it at her brother’s head.

“Don’t you dare say anything sappy, moron. Now go out there so that when Miyako comes, you’re ready—it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting, after all.”

“You also don’t want to give her any time to come to her senses and change her mind,” I added, smirking. Kaien huffed, sending a wounded look at the both of us before leaving the room with a dramatic sniff. _Drama queen._

Kukaku waited all of five seconds before turning to me. “So,” she began bluntly, “How are things working out with Kuchiki? Still too chicken to make a move, huh?”

I pursed my lips, not bothering to deny it. Shiba Kukaku, I’d found, had the annoying habit of being able to see right through my bullshit. “It’s not that simple.”

“When is it ever?” Kukaku snorted. “Look, I get it. It’s not easy. The Kuchiki clan is made up of a bunch of stuck-up pricks with sticks stuck so far up their asses I’m surprised they’re not choking on them. And if _Shiba_ clan politics are bad, the Kuchiki clan is about a thousand times worse. It’s no surprise that you don’t want to deal with that.” Kukaku paused, green eyes—so much like her brother’s—taking in my expression seriously. “But you love him, and I’d bet my newly-renovated house that he loves you too. And I think that’s worth fighting for, don’t you?”

I inhaled sharply. Although several people had certainly _implied_ that my feelings towards Byakuya were more than simple friendship, this was the first time someone had flat-out stated that it was something as serious as _love._

“His clan will never approve of me,” I turned my head away, not quite able to hide the bitterness in my voice. It all came down to that, didn’t it? I wasn’t foolish enough to think that I would ever be good enough for him in their eyes. “His clan may be willing to tolerate his friendship with me, however reluctantly, but a courtship? That’s something else entirely. And I could never ask him to choose between me and his family’s approval.”

The thing was, even that first night in Inuzuri when I’d realized my feelings weren’t quite as platonic as I would’ve liked, I’d never planned on acting on them. And it had been easier then to decide, because I only saw Byakuya once every few months and had no plans to leave Inuzuri anytime soon—such a long distance relationship would never work out. But things had changed, hadn’t they?

“Because you don’t think that he’ll choose you?” Kukaku tilted her head to the side.

“Because it would _tear him apart!”_ I hissed. “I—I have no idea what his decision would be, if it came down to it. If he…rejected my feelings…” I swallowed, pushing down the heavy lump that had formed in my throat. “He would hate himself for hurting me,” I finished softly. At least by not confessing, only one of us would be hurt—he would never have to suffer the guilt of telling me _no_. I could paste on a smile, continue to be his friend (and whatever happened, that would never change), and if—when—he chose to settle down with a nice, suitable girl that his family would approve of, I would tell him that I was happy for him. In time, I may even come to believe it.

“And if he didn’t? Because I think you’re underestimating just how much you mean to him,” Kukaku said, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

I closed my eyes, trying to hide the sudden sharp pang of sadness that shot through my chest. “Kukaku-san, you don’t understand. His family, his duty, his _pride,_ it means everything to him. And if he chose me, there would always be a part of him wondering if he did the right thing.” And really, wasn’t his internal turmoil over breaking the rules _twice_ for Hisana in the original timeline the primary reason behind why he had pushed so hard for Rukia’s execution in the first place?

“Oh, he would treat me well, I have no doubt,” I continued, smiling wistfully—he had tried his best for the original Hisana, after all. “But I would be asking him to disappoint his grandfather, break the laws of his clan, break his promise to his _parents_ for something that might not even work out _,_ and I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t ask that of him.” There was a long moment of silence.

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Kukaku asked quietly. I shrugged.

“Love him, like him, care for him—it doesn’t matter. They’re just labels. I want him to be happy, that’s all. And if he’s happy with me being his friend, that’s what I’ll be.”


	20. Chapter 20

The first sign that something was wrong was the fact that Iemura met me at the doors of the Fourth Division, looking frazzled, exhausted, and completely wrung out. There was a faintly manic gleam in his eyes as he looked at me, glasses slightly askew.

The second sign that something was wrong was the fact that for the first time ever, he actually looked happy to see me.

“Yukimura. You’re good with kids, right?” He demanded before I had a chance to talk. “And better yet, you have absolutely no problem talking back to people who far outrank you.”

I blinked. “Uh--” I said, taken aback. He ignored me.

“Good. Now listen carefully, because this is an order. If you run across any demon children during your shift today, you are to do everything in your power to get her away from this place. I don’t care what you have to do, just _get her out of my hair.”_ Before I had a chance to ask further questions, he stormed away in the general direction of the barracks.

Feeling slightly nervous now, I took a deep breath before opening the doors to the Fourth Division headquarters. I made it past the front lobby before stopping dead, taking in the scene of complete and utter chaos before me. Overturned tables and chairs, a couple holes in the walls, the sound of sobbing as several Fourth Division members underwent simultaneous mental breakdowns…

“Tsukuda-san,” I said faintly, turning to the nurse who seemed to be doing her best to ignore everything going on around her. Absently, I wondered if I had maybe made something of a mistake accepting this internship. Isane and Hanataro never had to deal with shit like this. “What the hell happened?”

Somewhere in the distance, there was a deafening crash. Someone screamed.

“Ah—there was a fight at the Eleventh Division today,” Tsukuda said meekly, not meeting my eyes.

“And?” I asked, not understanding. Fights at the Eleventh Division were nothing new; saying that a fight broke out there was like saying ‘the sky is blue today’ or ‘Yoruichi is fast.’

“Um…Zaraki-taicho got involved. And, he got in a disagreement with Muguruma-taicho. They’re both being treated right now,” Tsukuda continued nervously.

“What does that have to do with…this?” I motioned towards the scene of destruction around us.

“Uh…you see--” Before she could answer, a pink blur burst through one of the few remaining undamaged walls ( _through a wall,_ my mind repeated in disbelief). Next to me, Tsukuda let out a squeak, something that sounded like “Sorrysomethingcameupgottago” and flash-stepped away before I could do anything more than blink. That wasn’t a good sign.

Closer inspection revealed that the pink blur was actually a giggling pink-haired child, who appeared to be having the time of her life. She skidded to a stop in front of me, tilting her head to the side curiously. A quick glance to the lieutenant badge on her arm confirmed her identity. Well, that explained a lot of things.

“Hey! Who’re you?” She asked, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet.

“I’m Yukimura Hisana,” I said, bending down so that I was at face level with her. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Kusajishi Yachiru, lieutenant of Squad 11!” She announced cheerfully.

“Nice to meet you, Yachiru-chan,” I said, smiling slightly. She kind of reminded me of a younger-Rukia on a sugar rush. “You looked like you were having a lot of fun just now. Were you playing a game?”

“Uh-huh! I was playin’ tag! It’s my favorite. I think I lost them though,” Yachiru pouted briefly. “They’re so _slooow._ At least Frilly-brows and Baldy can run, even if they can’t catch me. _”_

“How come you don’t play with them, then?” I asked curiously.

“’Cause they’re at home. And welllll….Ret-chan told me ta go back ‘cause Ken-chan is hurt and has ta stay here right now, but I didn’t wanna leave, ya know? So I got some people here ta play with me!”

“Because you go wherever Zaraki-taicho goes, right?” I murmured. She grinned up at me.

“’xactly!” A speculative gleam entered her eyes. “Hey, hey! Ya wanna join? I promise, it’s lotsa fun!”

“I bet,” I laughed. “Tag is one of my favorite games too. But right now, I’m feeling kind of hungry, so I was hoping to go bake some cookies. You’re welcome to come, if you want.” Iemura had better thank me for this.

“You’re making cookies?” Yachiru asked, eyes shining. Glad to see that my knowledge about her obsession with food wasn’t wrong.

“Mmm-hmm. Raspberry and apricot and chocolate ones,” I confirmed. A hint of nostalgia entered my voice. “I used to bake a lot with my little sister, but…well, I haven’t gotten the chance to in a long time.”

“How come?” Yachiru asked, eyes wide.

“Well, she lives pretty far away, you know? In the 78th District. She’ll be coming here in a few months but until then, I could use some company, if you’re up for it,” I said, smiling warmly. “Have you baked cookies before, Yachiru-chan?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Is it fun?”

“You bet. Especially because you get to eat them at the end.” Leaning in, I winked conspiratorially at her. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Food always tastes better when you’re the one making it.” I offered her my hand. “So what do you say—you wanna help me out?”

There was a moment where Yachiru stared at my hand almost suspiciously, like she wasn’t sure if I was being sincere or making fun of her. The next instant, I felt a small hand grabbing my own. “Okay, Hisa-chan. But after, ya gotta promise ta come play with me, yeah?”

“It’s a deal,” I confirmed, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Hey, don’t eat that, or we won’t have enough for later!” I scolded from where I was letting the raspberry jam simmer, catching Yachiru trying to sneak a bite of cookie dough for the umpteenth time. “Don’t you want to make cookies?”

“But it’s reaaaaally good!” She whined, pouting. I hid my smile behind one hand—she really was very cute. “Can’t I have just a little bit more, Hisa-chan? Just _thiiiis_ much.” She demonstrated by holding her thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart before staring up at me with beseeching eyes.

Tough luck. Raising Rukia had made me immune to any and all forms of puppy-dog eyes.

“Tell you what. We’re just about done with the jam anyway; how would you like to help me cut the dough into shapes?” I asked.

“We can do that?” Yachiru sounded thrilled.

“Of course.” Taking a rolling pin, I proceeded to flatten the dough into a sheet. Taking a knife, I asked her, “What shape would you like me to cut out?”

Yachiru thought about that for a moment. “Can we make a Ken-chan shaped cookie?” She asked excitedly.

I barely resisted the urge to sigh. Girl certainly didn’t start small. Still—

“I’ve never actually met Zaraki-taicho, so I’m going to need you to describe him for me,” I admitted. “Could you tell me what he looks like, Yachiru-chan?”

Yachiru brightened up. “Sure! Okay, first he’s _really_ tall, which is good ‘cause I can always see a lot when I’m hangin’ onto his back. So ya gotta make sure to make him a really big cookie, bigger than all the others. And he has spiky hair, like a porcupine! And also he has an eyepatch and he wears his captain’s coat all the time and he always carries his sword around—” She babbled, waving her arms around for emphasis.

I let Yachiru’s voice wash over me as I cut out the general shape of the cookie. A layer of dark chocolate sauce was used to color his hair and make him an eyepatch and a shihakusho. Another tiny drop of chocolate was used to make his eye. Splotches of raspberry jam were used to create ‘blood’, since Yachiru insisted that he was never happier than he was during a fight where his opponents were strong enough to actually cut him. As I didn’t have a blender, I had Yachiru smash up some white sugar crystals to make powdered sugar, which was then used to make a ‘haori.’ Several minutes later, we had a pretty decent cookie approximation of the Eleventh Division captain. Yachiru was elated.

“Hisa-chan, look! He looks just like Ken-chan!” She exclaimed, peering down at it from her position on the table and clapping her hands together in delight. Tugging at my sleeve, she added, “Can we make me too? And Frilly-brows and Baldy? Can we? Can we?”

“Why not,” I smiled. “After all, I don’t think that Zaraki-taicho would be Zaraki-taicho if he didn’t have you there with him. And we can’t leave your friends out either. Come on—let’s get started, shall we?”

 ***

Two hours later, we not only had various Zaraki-cookies, Yachiru-cookies, Madarame-cookies and Ayasegawa-cookies, but we also had a multitude of hollow-cookies for them to fight. Halfway through the making of the second hollow-cookie, Yachiru had joined me in cutting them out and decorating them. Given the fact that we only had orange, red, dark brown and white colors to work with, I was kind of impressed by the sheer variety we managed. Even more so if you considered the fact that each and every hollow we came up with was probably based on an actual memory.

“And what about that one?” I asked as we waited for the cookies to cool, pointing towards a multi-eyed hollow with rather intense looking horns. Yachiru had put an impressive amount of detail into that one, and I was curious about the story behind it. She beamed, a proud smile lighting up her features.

“That was my first hollow! It was a lotta fun to fight,” Yachiru said happily. “It was pretty tough. Ken-chan wanted to fight it, but he let me have it ‘cause my ‘first fight should be a good one,’” she recited, before turning to me. “What about you, Hisa-chan? What was your first fight like?”

Well, the first time I’d stood my ground against a hollow (mainly because I’d been in no shape to run away) was actually...four months after I’d arrived in Inuzuri, before I’d met Tatsuya and the others.

“When I was ten, I was cooking dinner for myself and my sister in the woods when a hollow came out of nowhere. I didn’t have a sword, but I _did_ have a fire going, so I grabbed a flaming branch and threw it into the hole in the hollow’s chest. He didn’t survive,” I said distantly, thinking back. Really, I’d been incredibly lucky that it had been such a low level one.

“That’s… _so cool,”_ Yachiru said with widened eyes, something like admiration passing through them for the first time. “Wait til I tell Ken-chan! He keeps sayin’ that the Fourth is made up of a buncha wimps ‘cause ya never kill nuthin’.”

“Never kill _anything,”_ I corrected, trying to ignore the fact that I was having a conversation about killing with someone who physically and mentally resembled a four year old. “And it’s true that generally, the Fourth doesn’t go out and kill hollows. But Yachiru-chan, that doesn’t make us weak. It’s all about what’s important to you. People join the Eleventh because they value fighting, the glory of battle. I joined the Fourth because what’s most important to me is making sure that the idiots I care about can get up and _keep on_ fighting. However, if some jerk tries to push me around, the fact that I’m a medic first and foremost doesn’t change the fact that I’ll punch them in the face. Does that make sense?” When Yachiru nodded, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, I smiled and handed her a cookie. “They should be cool enough now. Here—you deserve it.”

In retrospect, I may have underestimated the power of Kusajishi Yachiru on a sugar rush. If I thought she was fast _before,_ she was practically bouncing off the walls at light speed now. Iemura-senpai was going to _kill_ me.

On the bright side, after she’d eaten about a dozen and a half cookies, I’d managed to get her to slow down by telling her that if she kept this up, she wouldn’t be able to show Zaraki-taicho her handiwork. On the down side, she took this to mean that she needed to show them to Zaraki-taicho _right this instant_ which normally wouldn’t be too bad, except for fact that she’d decided to _take me with her._

Which, well. I mean, I was flattered that she seemed to consider me a new friend of hers—she wouldn’t have insisted on introducing me to her captain otherwise. But if I knew that meeting Kusajishi Yachiru would lead to me meeting _Zaraki freakin’ Kenpachi_ not three hours later, I’d have stayed home in bed today.

To make matters worse, she was dragging me through the halls at dizzying speed (at least she wasn’t running through walls anymore), completely unconcerned by the fact that I was probably at least twice her body weight.

“Ken-chan!” She exclaimed, slamming open a door and coming to a stop so suddenly I almost fell over. I leaned heavily on the doorway, trying to catch my breath. The fact that the air felt heavy with reiatsu really wasn’t helping. Jesus Christ, if that was him with his reiatsu heavily suppressed, what did it feel like when he didn’t have his eyepatch on? I didn’t even want to contemplate it.

“Yukimura-san.” Unohana’s bemused voice caused me to wince as I suddenly felt self-conscious of the fact that for all intents and purposes, I was standing in front of my boss with flour in my hair, jam on my hands, and crumbs on my uniform and that I’d just spent the last few hours baking cookies instead of working. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah. Unohana-taicho, Zaraki-taicho.” Well, when in doubt, resort back to basic manners. “Would you like a cookie?” I asked lamely, voice only slightly higher than normal. Reaching into the basket I was carrying, I randomly selected a cookie and pulled it out.

“Is that shaped like a hollow?” Unohana asked, sounding delighted. She reached out and gently took it from me, turning it over and inspecting it with the air of an art connoisseur. “This is nicely made. I like that you even cut out a little hollow hole, and the use of powdered sugar to make the mask is ingenious.”

“Right?” Yachiru puffed up proudly. “That’s not even the best one though. Here, I saved this one for you.” She held up one of the better Zaraki-cookies directly in front of the real Zaraki’s face. “Look what Hisa-chan helped me make! See, it looks just like you!”

For a long moment, Zaraki didn’t say anything, gaze intent upon his cookie counterpart. Yachiru’s expression turned worried. “Do you like it?” She asked, a trace of uncertainty in her voice…and no matter how powerful and fast she may have been, in that moment she looked like any other child looking to their parent for approval.

“Yachiru-chan worked very hard on that, Zaraki-taicho,” I spoke up quietly, refusing to flinch when olive-green eyes turned towards me. “I’m sure we can all agree that it’s a very nice cookie, don’t you?”

Zaraki stared at me for a moment longer before huffing. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Yachiru. “Oi, stop lookin’ at me like that, ya dumb brat. Of course it’s good. You helped make it, didn’t ya?” With that, he promptly took a bite out of it. “Tastes alright too.”

I relaxed at his answer, ignoring the amused look Unohana sent my way. Yachiru lit up like the sun, all signs of doubt leaving her face as she grabbed the basket from me and began showing him the various hollow cookies, as well as the ones of ‘Frilly-brows’ and ‘Baldy’.

Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to start concocting escape plans. Eying the door, I wondered what my chances were of reaching it without anyone noticing. Deciding to test the waters, I waited until both Unohana and Zaraki were looking at Yachiru before beginning to inch my way there. I made it all of two centimeters before Yachiru lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. The next thing I knew, I found myself pulled directly in front of the Eleventh Division captain. My heart promptly started beating double-time.

“Ken-chan, this is Hisa-chan. She’s from the Rukongai, too! 78th District,” Yachiru stated excitedly. “Didja know that she once set a hollow on fire for interruptin’ her dinner? When she was only ten years old!”

“It’s less impressive than it sounds,” I said, shifting awkwardly as his eyes turned towards me. “It was just a single hollow and it wasn’t expecting me to fight back. I got lucky.”

 “Hmph. Not too bad for a brat though,” Zaraki grunted. “Woulda expected a pipsqueak like ya to run.” My eye twitched faintly before I reminded myself that given how tall Zaraki was (Yachiru certainly hadn’t been exaggerating), he probably saw everyone as ‘pipsqueaks.’

“Wasn’t in any shape to outrun it, really,” I said, shrugging with forced nonchalance. “So my only choices were to do something, or die.” One side of my lips quirked up. “I chose to live.” And really, with Rukia depending on me to protect her, dying had never been an option.

“Huh. A Fourth Division member with some balls. Never thought I’d see the day,” Zaraki snorted, shaking his head before turning to Unohana. “Oi, woman, I can leave now right? I toldja, I’m fine—a coupla bruised ribs ain’t omethin’ ta stay in bed for.”

“You are free to go, Zaraki-taicho,” Unohana said, sounding faintly exasperated. “I would tell you to spend the rest of the day resting and recovering, but I suspect that it would be a futile effort.”

“Damn straight,” Zaraki grunted. “Ain’t nobody got time for pansy shit like that.” He glanced towards the pink-haired child sitting on his bed. “Oi Yachiru, let’s go.”

Yachiru hesitated for a moment before reaching out and tugging on my sleeve. “Hisa-chan, you’ll still come and play with me later, right?”

“I’d be happy to. If Zaraki-taicho says it’s okay?” I asked, glancing uncertainly at the Eleventh Division captain. He stared bemusedly at me.

“Why’re ya askin’ me? I ain’t her dad. S’not like I control what the brat does,” he said gruffly.

“You may not be her dad, but she’s still your kid, isn’t she?” I pointed out. From what I understood, he took her in, fed her, clothed her, and taught her how to defend herself…as far as I was concerned, that made him her parent, biologically related or not. “It’s only polite to ask permission.”

Zaraki paused, an odd expression crossing his face, and it slowly dawned on me that this may have been the first time someone had come to him asking permission to…well, to set up a playdate of all things. It also went a long way in explaining Yachiru’s initial hesitant attitude towards me. From the looks of it, she was used to dragging people into her games, but—how many times had someone sought _her_ out just to play?

“I’ll take good care of her,” I promised, tilting my chin up so I could look him in the eye. Even sitting down, he was taller than me.

Zaraki was silent for another second before his gaze flickered to where Yachiru was looking at him expectantly. He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, kid. Ya wanna play babysitter, then sure. Just don’t come complainin’ ta me if she starts doin’ annoyin’ ya or omething’.”

I smiled, reaching down to ruffle Yachiru’s hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Zaraki-taicho.”

***

“Otoribashi-taicho is currently finishing up a spar, but you can just drop the reports in his office,” the scary-looking lieutenant of the Third Division said to me. She kind of reminded me of a Japanese version of Minerva McGonagall, with her stern, no-nonsense demeanor. “It’s the room furthest down the hall and to the left—the door should be unlocked.”

“Thank you, Iba-fukutaicho,” I said, bowing politely.

“Just be warned, it’s a bit of a mess,” she said, the faintest note of exasperation in her voice. “Just put the reports on whatever empty spot you can find on his desk.

“Sure thing,” I said, making my way down. Upon entering Otoribashi’s office, I blinked. Well, Iba certainly hadn’t been lying. Papers were strewn everywhere, a music stand stood in one corner of the room, the bookshelves were crammed with a mix of mission reports and sheet music, and on the desk—

“Oh,” I breathed out softly, walking forward to get a better look at the beautifully carved violin resting on the table. It had been…well, it had been a lifetime since the last time I’d seen a violin. Unable to resist, I ran my fingers lightly across the aged rosewood, nostalgia swelling up inside me.

My throat felt tight and I swallowed, faint memories flashing before my eyes; orchestral concerts, the look of pride on my dad’s face when I became concertmistress of my local youth symphony, Christmas jamming sessions with me on the violin, Dave on the cello, Mom on the piano, and Dad singing along, Grandad handing me my first violin when I was six and teaching me how to fiddle because _no granddaughter of mine is gonna grow up not knowing music_ , and this _always happened_ whenever I came across a piece of my old life, it didn’t matter how long it’d been and _goddammit,_ I should be over it by now—

“Would you like to play?” A voice from behind me made me jump back, startled. Swallowing heavily, I turned to see the Third Division captain staring at me, a curious look in his eyes.

“What?” I managed to croak out.

“I asked you if you would like to play,” he repeated, a strange smile playing around the edges of his lips. “You looked like you wanted to, Yukimura-kun.”

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t,” I stuttered out before taking a deep breath to calm myself. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t play, Otoribashi-taicho.” _Not anymore, at least._

Even as Christina it’d been ages since I’d been strong enough to play. Compared to feeling my body slowly kill itself—as if the chemo and radiation hadn’t been doing that already—music took a backseat in my priorities. It had been _decades_ since the last time I’d felt the urge to pick up a violin, and it wasn’t like I could just find one in Inuzuri. But seeing a violin again…and being _offered the chance to hold it…_ I bit down on my lip harshly, turning away. Because the thing was, no matter how much I accepted the fact that I was Hisana now (and I wouldn’t give this life up for anything), there would always be a part of me that missed the life I had as Christina. It was why I worked so hard on recreating the recipes I’d loved once; French fries and cakes and pizza and cookies. Why I had notebooks filled with half-remembered stories, all written in English. My information on the Bleach universe was useful, my medical knowledge even more so, but they’d never been the _only_ things I’d brought with me.

“I should be going,” I said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush. Reaching out, I handed Otoribashi the reports from Unohana. He took them wordlessly. “These are the medical reports for fourth seat Mitarashi and seventh seat Tanaki. Unohana-taicho also wants them to come up for a check-up in two days. That’s all that I wanted to say, so--”

A hand on my forearm stopped me before I could make my escape. “No, stay,” he murmured, that same strange glint in his eyes. “It’s so rare that I come across a shinigami with an interest in music. Especially Western instruments. Most people here, I’ve found, don’t share my preference for them.”

Okay, so I could add ‘music instruments’ on my list of ‘things in the afterlife that hadn’t caught up with modern Japanese culture’. I was almost certain that Western music should have been introduced to Japan by now.

“Iemura-senpai will be expecting me back, and I have work to do,” I deflected.

“I’m sure that the Fourth can spare you for a few minutes,” he dismissed, waving one hand. With that, he reached out and picked up the bow before handing it to me. I took it without thinking, fingers automatically falling into the correct bow-holding position. Purple eyes gleamed, a hint of satisfaction entering his expression.

“Don’t play, huh?” He asked, tone faintly mocking. “You must be a natural then, Yukimura-kun.”

I flushed, feeling my face heat up. “I haven’t played in a very, very long time,” I corrected, looking down at the bow in my right hand. My fingers were trembling slightly.

“All the better to do so now, then,” Otoribashi said, handing his violin to me. I stared at it for a long moment before accepting it from him, placing it under my neck in a half-forgotten movement. It felt awkward and uncomfortable—the chin-rest dug into my skin and the shoulder-rest wasn’t quite adjusted properly—but at the same time, there was something so intensely _familiar_ about it that for a moment, I forgot to breathe. I closed my eyes, almost feeling like I was Christina again, practicing in a suburban home in Connecticut.

Letting out a deep sigh, I reached up and drew the bow across the string in a foreign—but oddly practiced—movement. A clear, vibrant note ( _an A,_ my mind whispered, _the note that every orchestra was tuned to_ ) rang out into the room.

It had never sounded so beautiful.

***

“Touch my onigiri and die,” I said without looking up as I continued to scribble in my notebook. Why Shihouin Yoruichi found the need to bug me even when Byakuya wasn’t around, I had no idea.

“So rude, Hisana-chan.” Even without looking, I could tell that she was pouting right now. “Is that any way to speak to a captain?”

“When the captain in question is trying to steal food from you? Yes,” I grumbled. There was another reiatsu signature beside her, but I refused to look up. If I didn’t look up, I could ignore it, and my gut feeling was telling me that ignoring it was in the best interest of my mental health right now. “I get enough of that from Ichimaru Gin, I don’t need it from you too.”

“You know, your relationship with that kid still baffles me,” Yoruichi mused, a mystified note in her voice.

“What’s there to understand? He steals my food, I try to stab him, he annoys me, I try to eviscerate him, he messes with some poor guy for fun, I try to pound a sense of common human decency into that thick skull of his. Haven’t succeeded yet, but statistically, if this keeps up…well, it only takes one time,” I shrugged. “It’s simple, really.”

Biting into another onigiri, I added, “I would love to chat some more, but I have a lot of w--” I blinked as my notebook suddenly disappeared before my eyes before whirling around to find some scruffy-looking blond guy flipping through it. Some scruffy-looking blond guy wearing a haori with the kanji for ‘twelve’ on it. _Shit_.

Still—

“Oi!” Urahara Kisuke blinked as an onigiri hit him right between the eyes. I glared at him, wishing that I could figure out some way to shoot reiatsu laser beams from my eyes. Ah well, something to look into later. “Haven’t you heard of ‘personal privacy’ before? Give that back!”

“Ah, Yukimura-san--” Wow, that made seven captains who knew my name. Wonderful. “—don’t be mad. I was just taking a look.”

To add insult to injury, when I tried to swipe my notebook back, he casually held it at just out of my arms reach before continuing to flip through it. One eyebrow raised in surprise as he scanned my scribbled notes. My eyes narrowed. Well, that only left one option.

“Ouch!” He doubled over as I kicked him viciously in the shin, making sure to enhance my foot with reiatsu as I did so. I didn’t think I could handle the humiliation of the kick hurting _me_ more than it did him.

I sniffed, reaching out to snatch my notebook back before promptly whacking him on the head. “Don’t touch my stuff, Urahara-taicho. It’s rude.”

Urahara sent me a mournful look. It made me want to punch him. “Maa, maa, Yukimura-san. You would hold a poor man’s curiosity against him?”

“Damn right,” I said flatly, holding my notebook protectively to my chest.

Urahara let out a heavy sigh, although there was a hint of reluctant amusement in his eyes. “It’s almost like having another Hiyori around.”

“Don’t mind him; I’ve long since given up trying to instill manners into him,” Yoruichi said, voice exasperated. Like she could talk. As far as I was concerned, _both_ of them needed to attend a few lessons in ‘Respecting Personal Privacy 101’. “What was in that book anyway? I’m feeling rather left out right now.”

“Nothing. Just an extracurricular project of mine,” I tried to deflect.

“Some extracurricular project,” Urahara said, smiling wryly. “Tell me, do you always go around attempting to cure chronically ill captains in your free time, Yukimura-san?” My hands clenched as I resisted the urge to strangle him.

“There’s nothing in here about ‘curing chronically ill captains,’” I said stiffly. “So I’ve developed an interest in pulmonary disorders. Is that a crime now?” From the unconvinced looks on their faces, neither of them bought my excuse.

“Hisana-chan,” Yoruichi’s voice was gentle. “I understand wanting to help, but Ukitake-taicho has been ill for a very long time now.”

“And?” I snapped out defensively. “Yes, he’s sick and yes, there’s no cure right now. Doesn’t mean that there’ll never be one.”

Yoruichi shook her head, an almost pitying look in her eyes. “He’s lived with it since he was very young, and in that time, no one’s been able to do anything aside from relieve his symptoms a bit. Even Unohana-taicho--”

“Unohana-taicho doesn’t know everything,” I cut in sharply. “She’s an amazing and incredibly experienced healer and she’s one of the people I respect most in this world, but she’s not omniscient. And maybe it’s arrogance to think that I could possibly do anything where she couldn’t, but as long as there’s the faintest chance, I’m going to damn well _try.”_ Biting my lip and shoving back old memories ( _“I’m afraid there’s nothing further we can do, Miss. Dalton. I’m sorry.” “…how long? How long do I have left to live? Tell me, dammit!” “…two weeks at most. I—I’ll give you some time alone.”)_ , I glared fiercely at her. “Please don’t try to dissuade me again, Shihouin-taicho. I can’t—I _won’t—_ give up on this.”

Something seemed to dawn on Yoruichi’s features. “This…this isn’t just medical curiosity or concern for a captain, is it? This is _personal_ for you.” Piercing golden eyes scanned my face intently. “Hisana-chan, you—what happened to you?”

I turned away, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the sting in my throat. The tired, resigned look in Ukitake Juushiro’s eyes…how many times had I seen that same expression reflected back at me when I’d looked in the mirror? Looked in the mirror and seen a ghost; head fragile and bald like a newly born baby bird’s, emaciated wrists, skeletal features, ribs sticking out like daggers.

Worse than that though, were the frightened, agonized, worn out looks of my family as the months passed and I just kept getting _worse_ and _worse,_ knowing as I laid in that hospital bed that I would be killing a part of them when I died, the pained acceptance in their eyes—

“All I know is that Shiba-fukutaicho cares for Ukitake-taicho and it kills him to see his captain sick,” I said finally. “That’s enough reason for me to not give up.”

***

“Gah!” I let out a small shriek as the branch I was napping on shook violently and I almost tumbled out of the tree. Well, almost—the rope I’d tied around my waist to the tree branch prevented me from falling entirely. Seconds later, I found myself hanging awkwardly from the branch, staring down at startled, dark brown eyes in a face mostly hidden by white cloth.

“What the hell?” The stranger blurted out incredulously from where he was perched on the branch beneath me. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Me?”_ I asked, feeling just as incredulous. And more than a bit ridiculous, considering the fact that I was hanging from a tree branch. “I’m an Academy student! This is the Academy! I’m _supposed_ to be here!”

 “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing right now, and not napping in trees?” He asked, motioning towards where the rest of my class was engaged in bakudo spell practice.  

“I got banned from kido practice for the next month,” I said, shrugging. “I’d sleep in my room, but surprisingly, this tree is more comfortable than my bed, so…”

“Banned from--” The figure—and I could tell he was male, now—trailed off disbelievingly.  

“Long story,” I cut him off, not feeling like going into the details of how I might have accidentally-on-purpose set Matsushita-sensei on fire that one time he’d slapped Isane across the face for talking back to him.

Honestly, the Academy was overreacting—it was only a couple of third-degree burns. It’s not like I hadn’t apologized and offered to treat him afterwards. I thought I’d been very nice about the whole thing.

“Now that we’ve established why I’m here, who are _you_?” With the weird mask and the weird uniform combined with the fact that he obviously wasn’t an Academy student or instructor, he was hitting an eleven on the creepiness scale and it normally only went up to ten.

When he didn’t answer, I sighed and said, “You know, it’s pretty sketchy of you to be hiding in a tree like this. I mean, some guy in a mask peeping in on a bunch of teenagers? What are you, some kind of pervert? In which case, I have to warn you: I don’t tolerate pedophiles.”

As expected, the stranger sputtered before waving his arms in protest. Too easy. “N-no! O-of course not! I’m from the Kido Corps, you brat!”

I paused thoughtfully. I knew that the Kido Corps sometimes recruited students from the Academy, but I didn’t know that they started watching students _this_ early. Still, if he was telling the truth, and the strange uniform he was wearing supported his story…well, I’d never been one to ignore an opportunity. Untying myself from the tree, I promptly dropped down onto the same branch as the stranger.

“Okay, say that I believe you. You wouldn’t mind me asking you a few questions, would you?”

“And why should I answer?” The figure asked coolly.

“Oh come on. I’m bored, you’re bored, and honestly, it’s the least you could do after waking me up from my nap so rudely,” I pointed out reasonably.

“The affairs of the Kido Corps are conducted in absolute secrecy,” he said, eyes hard. “I will not indulge the petty curiosity of some Academy brat just because she’s _bored--”_

“Lighten up,” I snorted. “I’m not interested in that stuff. I just had a few questions about spells with incantations versus those without. And you guys are supposed to be the experts on this stuff, right?” I’d ask one of my friends, but…well, for all that they could _do_ kido well enough, few of them were actually interested in the mechanics behind it. Byakuya was probably my best option, but he wasn’t here right now. Kaien was another option, but that’d mean putting up with him going on and on about the various virtues of Fukui Miyako and…no. Just no.

“Can’t you ask your instructors?” The guy asked exasperatedly. I was just going to call him Grumpy-face…not that I could see his face, with the whole mask thing and all, but it was probably grumpy. 

“The same instructors who banned me from practicing here for the foreseeable future?” I asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like you have anything better to do, and this way you can participate in the education of the next generation. Which is a very noble thing to do,” I nodded sagely. Grumpy-face looked unimpressed. “At least hear me out,” I pleaded, widening my eyes beseechingly.

“Very well,” Grumpy-face said grumpily. See, I was so good at coming up with nicknames. “I will listen to you, and assuming that your questions are not _completely_ stupid, I may deign to answer them.” Wow. That was possibly the least gracious concession I’d ever heard. I was almost impressed. Still, that was all the invitation I needed.

“Right, so one of my friends taught me Hadou #31: Shakkaho a few weeks ago; said that if there was any hadou spell I needed to know, it was that one. I’ve been practicing on getting it down without the incantation, because honestly, the spell itself is useful but the incantation is completely impractical.” It was why I preferred the simpler spells—the ones without incantations. All I had to do was channel the proper amount of reiatsu down my arm, focus on what I wanted it to do, and say the name of the spell. Easy.

“You do know that mastering Hadou #31 without an incantation is something most shinigami can’t do until well after they graduate? Your friend may have taught you the spell ahead of your peers, but it’s rather arrogant of you to think you can master it to that extent, don’t you think?” Grumpy-face asked scornfully.

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t try. Like, what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Ask my opponent to wait as I recite some long-ass poem in front of him? That’s just stupid,” I shot back. “But anyway, all shinigami have vents in their wrists to release their internal spiritual energy in the form of reiatsu, right? Like sure, we have this layer of reiatsu covering every inch of our body, but it all comes from the wrists, where you convert internal reiryoku to external reiatsu. When you do a kido spell, you pull your body’s internal reiryoku towards the vents in your wrists where it’s converted into reiatsu and released in the form of a spell.” In other words, reiryoku was potential energy while reiatsu was kinetic (usable) energy. Manipulating cells, healing, controlling my metabolism, any kind of kido spell—that was all reiatsu.

“Yes, I’m glad to see that you’ve apparently paid attention in your classes. Congratulations,” Grumpy-face said dryly. I shot him a glare, before continuing on, undeterred.

“Shut up, I’m getting to the point. So I kept trying to figure out why incantations are even needed, and why some spells have them while others don’t. So after going through like five dozen books, I discovered that there’s a third component to how kido spells are formed. See, in class we went over how intent shapes the spell and how the amount of energy you put in determines its power…but we didn’t cover what determines the inherent _properties_ of the spell. Intent alone can’t explain the wide variety of kido spells. But the origin of the spiritual energy used for spells might,” I said excitedly. “The book didn’t go into detail but apparently reiryoku that comes from the upper chest is different from reiryoku that comes from the abdomen, and so on. I wasn’t sure if the information presented was accurate so I began testing out the spells I was more familiar with, and found that lightning based spells, like Byakurai, tend to use energy that originates from…near the head? I’m not sure, I had some problems identifying exactly where the reiryoku used for the spell was flowing from.”

“You’re correct that the properties of kido spells do depend on the origin of the spiritual energy,” the Kido Corps member said. There was an almost considering light in his eyes now as he turned to face me. At least the condescension from before was mostly gone. “Not many people discover that on their own though. Reiryoku that comes from certain areas of the head—of the brain—is more suited for lightning-based techniques, so you’re right about that. Barrier techniques use reiatsu that originates from the area around the solar plexus for stability, which makes sense as it’s the core of the body, or the spine, for strength. The more explosive spells come from the lungs, where the air is, and fire based techniques--”

“Come from the upper chest, right?” I finished enthusiastically. I knew that what he was telling me was probably a drastic oversimplification, but still, it was nice to have my theories confirmed. “But that still doesn’t account for why some techniques require incantations and others don’t. If incantations help draw energy from the correct parts of the body for spells, then shouldn’t all spells require incantations? But I know healing kido doesn’t, and a lot of hadou and bakudou spells don’t either.”

“Ah, well that’s simple enough to explain. See, all spells that don’t require incantations have one thing in common; they all pull reiryoku from only one part of the body. Take Byakurai for example; you focus so much on the idea of creating electric power—piercing and quick—that when you create the spell, you subconsciously draw energy from the mind. Anyway, with those spells, the intent of the user—assuming it’s clear enough—is enough to properly direct the user’s reiryoku,” he said, leaning forward as he began to warm up to the subject. I bit my lip, thinking hard.

“So if they only pull energy from one part of the body, then spells that require incantations must pull energy from multiple parts?” I asked tentatively. “Shakkaho…Shakkaho is mostly firepower, but it also contains explosive power so…”

“Correct.” Grumpy-face said approvingly. “Things become a bit more complicated when multiple types of energy are involved in a spell; not only must you simultaneously direct energy from different parts of the body, but you must also direct them in the right proportions. The user’s intent is no longer sufficient; thus, the need for an incantation. For most people, once they’ve used the spell with the incantation enough times, they eventually reach a point where they are able to subconsciously direct their energy for the spell without the aid of the words. The more complex the spell, the longer the process takes. However, just because they no longer strictly require it…”

“The spell still won’t be as powerful as it would be with the incantation, because they’re kind of just relying on…muscle memory, so to speak, at that point. They don’t really have full _control_ or awareness over their energy flow,” I mused, thinking his words over. It made a lot of sense. I wondered which part of the body healing reiatsu originated from. “I’m assuming that kido masters don’t have that problem? With the loss of power?” Because when they forewent the incantation, it was out of true understanding of the spell, wasn’t it?

“Again, correct,” Grumpy-face confirmed. I paused for a second, considering what I’d learned so far.

“Hey, is this also why it’s so much easier to adjust the spells without incantations?” I asked. “You don’t have to worry about energy proportions and stuff like that, you just have to worry about the amount of energy you put in? All I’ve managed to do with Shakkaho is change it from a big fireball to a little fireball which is pretty lame…but then again, the fact that spells with incantations combine reiryoku with different properties leaves a lot more room for experimentation, doesn’t it? I understand that it’s probably a delicate balance, but once you’ve mastered doing the spell _without_ an incantation, couldn’t you fool around with the proportions a little? Or figure out a way to adjust the incantation to do the same thing? Like for Shakkaho, add more air-based energy and less fire-based energy to create something that’ll blow someone apart. Or do the opposite and you could end up with a fireball that’s a _lot_ more heated than the original spell. I mean, it might take some work to come up with something that doesn’t give you third degree burns but the sheer _versatility_ you could manage…and that’s just with one spell!” I paused for a moment. “Why the hell don’t they teach this at the Academy?”

“Because it’s not necessary. The majority of shinigami can perform kido just fine with the aid of incantations. Most people don’t even notice the flow of reiryoku in their own body because they’re so attuned to feel of it that they can’t tell the direction their energy is flowing from. It’s certainly possible, but it’s a bit like trying to feel the blood flowing in your veins,” Grumpy-face explained, relaxing against the tree trunk. “Anyone can direct energy out of their wrists, but what we’ve talked about is something completely different. Being able to detect and manipulate your energy flow to such an extent…it is really only necessary for modifying, changing, and creating kido spells. If a student wishes to learn more advanced reiatsu theory, it is usually up to them to conduct independent study after graduation. ”

Which, well…it made sense. Why waste years teaching students skills that they didn’t strictly need, and might not ever use, after all?

The sound of a whistle blowing announced the end of class and I grimaced before turning back to the Kido Corps member in front of me. “I have to go; history starts soon. But thank you for taking the time to explain all this to me, it really clarified a lot of things about how kido spells work,” I said earnestly.

“I suppose it was not… _too_ much trouble,” he said grudgingly. “As you said earlier, I wasn’t very busy anyway. But I am…glad that you have such an interest in the subject.” I blinked. That last part had been unexpected.

“How can I not? Fireballs, ropes of energy, barriers that can stop monsters…it’s a bit like creating magic, isn’t it?” I grinned, recovering from my surprise. “So much cooler than just swinging a sword around.”

Grumpy-face let out a startled laugh, brown eyes lightening a fraction. Damn. At this rate, I’d need to make up another nickname for him. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing in thought.

“The kido lessons for the Second Class are on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from eight to ten, correct?” He asked abruptly.

“That’s right,” I answered hesitantly, wondering where he was going with this.

 “And you will be back on Wednesday?” He continued, eyes intent on my own.

“Uh—sure? I mean, this tree is pretty comfortable, so…” I trailed off bemusedly.

“Good. I will be back then,” he nodded sharply. I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling sheepish.

“Yeah, I guess I kind of distracted you from doing your job, huh? You know, the whole ‘looking out for promising recruits’ thing. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away,” I said, looking down awkwardly. “Next time I’ll help you look, okay? I’ll even point out who’s been doing well.”

Grumpy-face stared at me for a long moment. I had the strongest feeling that he was judging me for some reason. “Thank you for offering, but your assistance is not needed,” he finally stated. “However—before you leave, I hope that you will answer two questions of my own.”

“Ask away,” I said cautiously. A hint of confused frustration entered his eyes.

“First of all, how on earth did you manage to get banned from your classes?” There was an odd emphasis on the word ‘you.’ “I got the impression from our conversation today that you seemed to have a tolerable understanding of what you were doing.” Tolerable, huh? Gee, what a compliment.

“It was a training accident and you can’t prove otherwise,” I said a bit too quickly. He raised an eyebrow and I scowled, just _daring_ him to say something. “So my aim was a little off. Matsushita-sensei should have been paying attention.”

Grumpy-face looked like he barely restrained himself from sighing. It was an expression I was intimately familiar with; Iemura-senpai wore it all the time.

“Figures. I don’t know what I expected,” he said exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. So dramatic. I was beginning to think it was a requirement for becoming a shinigami.  

“And your second question?” I asked, starting to climb down.

“I would like to know your name.” The softly spoken reply took me by surprise and I paused in the midst of shimmying down the tree. Looking up, I found him staring at me with that same considering light in his eyes again.

“My name is Yukimura Hisana,” I said cheekily, flashing him a quicksilver grin before jumping the rest of the way down. “Remember it.”

***

I rubbed my eyes tiredly as I crossed ‘cystic fibrosis’ off my list of possible disorders. From the notes of Ukitake’s most recent diagnostic scans (honestly, it had been all too easy to sneak into the records room and steal a copy when Iemura’s back had been turned, the security of this place was _shameful)_ , there wasn’t any sign of abnormal mucus buildup in his lungs. Still, the possibility of a genetic disorder couldn’t be eliminated…although the fact that he hadn’t shown any symptoms until age three made the chances rather small. Slumping forward so that my cheek rested against the desk, I absently doodled a picture of a pair of lungs being chased by a mutant pathogen before crumpling it up in frustration. Fuck this era and fuck its lack of modern technology and diagnosing tools, _seriously._

“You’re going to get a cramp in your neck if you continue to sit like that,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. I whipped my head around to see Byakuya leaning against the wall, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at me.

 “Byakuya!” I stood up hurriedly, accidentally knocking my chair over as I did so. An involuntary smile spread across my face. “You’re back!”

“That I am. I was wondering how long it’d take you to notice,” Byakuya laughed, grey eyes warm. He extended his arms towards me and I didn’t hesitate to take his unspoken invitation, reaching out to hug him. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to take in his scent, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear, the feel of his reiatsu surrounding me, the warmth of his arms embracing my body.

 _One second, two seconds, three seconds,_ I thought to myself before stepping back, composing my expression into something a bit more neutral. Three seconds was all that I allowed myself nowadays. More than that, and I didn’t trust myself to let go.

“How was your mission? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” I asked, scanning him worriedly for any sign of injury. “How were Kazuki and Mitsuo and the others? They treated you well, right? And Rukia and Renji? Did they seem okay? How are Miwa and Kaori doing? They’re all eating well?”

“See for yourself,” Byakuya replied, pulling out a thick stack of letters from inside his shihakusho.

“Oh,” I breathed, eyes widening as I took them from him gently, almost reverently. My fingers twitched as I fought the urge to tear into them right away.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind,” Byakuya said softly. “I know you’ve been worried about them, Hisana.”

That was all the invitation I needed. Skimming the letters, I took in the words eagerly, almost hungrily, clutching the paper with a desperate fervor. Up until this point, I hadn’t quite realized how much I’d missed them.

Kaori’s letter was the shortest of them, brisk and to the point ( _“Oi Hisana, hurry up and come back, won’t you? Those kids of yours are driving me crazy with their moping” “I can’t believe that you sent back all that money. We don’t need it, we’re doing_ fine. _Didn’t I tell you to stop worrying about us and focus on yourself for once? Idiot.”)._ Kazuki’s letter made me laugh wistfully as he went on and on about the trouble Rukia and Renji got in ( _“I still say it’s unfair that you never had to deal with being a victim of their pranks” “Aside from the headaches caused by Kaori’s nagging—don’t tell her I said that—and the pineapple brat’s idiocy, I’m doing well. We still get tons of free food even when you’re not here; apparently no one wants to piss off the future-shinigami’s family”)._

Mitsuo’s letter held a faintly exasperated tone, and for a moment, I could almost picture him standing in front of me and scolding me ( _“Even from seventy eight districts away, you can’t stop worrying. Between me, Kazuki, Kaori and Miwa, we have more than enough money. Have some faith in us, will you?”)._ Miwa’s letter was neatly written, each character printed with obvious care _(“Shishou, my handwriting has improved greatly with Mitsuo’s and Kaori’s help and the clinic is doing well, even if it’s not the same without you. It’ll never be as good without you, but I’m trying and I hope that when you come back, you’ll find something you can be proud of.”)_

Renji’s letter was full of splotches and crossed out sentences, and was slightly crinkled up, as if he’d scrunched it up into a ball at some point in frustration before smoothing it out again _(“Yeah, I’m eating my vegetables…yeah, I listen to Kaori-nee-san when she tells me to go to bed…geez, what am I, five?” “Are the healers really treated like crap there? Those jerks…you kicked their butts, right?” “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of Rukia, just like I promised. Even though she’s being more of a pain in the ass than usual these past few months, which I didn’t think was_ possible.”)

The one from Rukia was the longest, spanning over ten pages front and back, more half-incoherent rambling than anything else ( _“I’m so sorry this letter is so short, nee-chan, stupid Renji stole the rest of the paper because he kept messing up and having to start over” “Just want you to know that I’m training super hard here and I’ll definitely be able to join you soon! The next time you see me, I’ll be way stronger” “Oni-sensei was mean to me today, yell at him when you see him, okay?” “Also Renji-baka dropped a spider down Kazuki’s shirt, he screamed like a girl, it was_ hilarious” “ _You mentioned that you met some_ captains? _What was that like?” “Love you, nee-chan. I miss you.”)._

By the time I got to the end of Rukia’s letter, my vision was blurry and there was a giant lump in my throat. A light touch on my shoulder made me turn around to see Byakuya looking at me concernedly.

“You’re crying,” he said softly. If this had been any other time, I might have felt amused at the faint note of panic in his voice.

“No I’m not,” I protested thickly, blinking rapidly. Because the universe hated me, this had the unfortunate side effect of causing fat droplets of tears to roll down my cheeks. Wiping them away angrily, I proceeded to carefully fold the letters back up and tuck them away. “I—I’m sorry I’m so emotional right now, and I’m not—I’m not usually like this--” My voice cracked for a second before I soldiered on. “It’s just, I--” A hand on my wrist stopped me.

“You don’t have to excuse yourself to me, Hisana,” Byakuya said quietly. “And you—I never want you to feel like you have to hide your feelings from me.”

“I—just ignore me. I’ll get over it. I’m just being s-stupid, _”_ I muttered, voice tight. “I…I should be feeling happy right now, not…not _crying._ I get to hear from my family for the first time in months, but--” I swallowed convulsively, but didn’t protest as Byakuya pulled me to him, holding my face against his chest.

“I just miss them _so much,_ you know?” I whispered. “Usually it’s not so bad, but sometimes…sometimes it’s just really…hard, not being able to see them.” I let out a choked laugh. “I wish I was back with them.”

Byakuya’s arms tightened around me for a moment and his jaw clenched. “I can’t say that I fully understand how you feel,” he admitted. “But just—just know that I’m always here for you. You may not be able to see them right now, but you have _me._ You’re not alone. _”_

“I know,” I exhaled slowly, giving him a watery smile. It didn’t quite manage to erase the hints of worry lingering in his features and instinctively, I leaned up and planted a soft kiss on the edge of his jaw. At the brush of my lips, he inhaled sharply, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

 “Don’t worry about me, Byakuya. I’ll be fine. Really,” I murmured, inserting as much sincerity as I could into my voice. “Because if there’s one thing that makes being apart from my family worth it, that makes this whole thing bearable…it’s you. And for that, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! For extra scenes/omakes, find me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com


	21. Chapter 21

“So have you memorized the chart I gave you yet?” Grumpy-face asked impatiently. I had no idea why the Kido Corps had sent him of all people to scout for potential recruits—he was grouchier than I was when I was running on four hours of sleep, and that was saying something. Additionally, he spent most of his time making frustrated noises at me instead of actually doing any, you know, recruiting.

“Eh. It’s a work in progress,” I said vaguely. When Grumpy-face exhaled heavily, I added, “Look, you gave me a chart on the human body detailing every single place where reiryoku is more concentrated than usual, and the properties energy from that area has. I’m trying, and I know most of them by now, but my memory isn’t perfect.”

Apparently reiryoku wasn’t this pool of energy spread uniformly throughout the human body like I’d previously thought. I mean, every single cell in the body _had_ reiryoku, but the distribution was far from uniform. Certain areas had slightly higher reiryoku than others—I called them energy hotspots—and it was from these places that the energy used for spells originated. Looking at the chart, I’d discovered that the hotspots mostly centered around nerve clusters and organs, so it hadn’t been that hard to memorize _where_ they were. Even without the chart, I could probably make an educated guess, given my knowledge of the human body.

What _was_ a pain was memorizing the properties of each hotspot. Especially considering the fact that there was a total of forty-two of them. And many of them had multiple characteristics. And some of them had the same ones.

“I suppose that is understandable,” Grumpy-face said grudgingly. “But as I’ve told you last time, spiritual energy is not a physical thing; it comes from our resolve, our will to live, our personalities, and the way we think. Therefore, the properties of spiritual energy are deeply rooted in symbolism. For example, take the heart—it is one of the organs most essential towards survival, and while it keeps us alive, we also have very limited control over it. It has also been said to be the center of our passion, what separates us from hollows—it represents our ability to love, to feel pain, to care, having the power to both create and destroy. When you think about it that way, it is far easier to understand why the reiryoku around the heart is primarily used for fire spells.”

“Huh. That was almost poetic. I didn’t know you had it in you, Grumpy-kun,” I said, smiling slightly. He shot me a venomous glare.

“I told you not to call me that. Numerous times,” he protested. I laughed, leaning back against the tree trunk. It really was a nice spot—comfortable, mostly hidden from view, and yet it offered a decent vantage point.

“What else am I supposed to call you? After all, you refuse to tell me your name,” I teased. “Quite rude of you, really. I told you _my_ name the first day we met.”

“The identities of those in the Kido Corps are kept strictly anonymous, Yukimura. You know that,” he said sternly. I waved him off.

“Yes, yes, so you keep telling me. And I understand. Still, since I don’t have anything else to address you with, I’m going to keep calling you Grumpy-kun.” Mainly because five minutes into my second ‘lesson’ with him, I’d made it my goal to get him to lighten up. The dude was almost as uptight as _Iemura._

In light of that, I had no idea why he kept spending time around me, even going out of his way to answer my questions and teach me the reiatsu theory that wasn’t covered in the Academy. Maybe he just secretly really liked teaching or something; given the faint gleam of pride in his eyes whenever I finally understood a difficult concept, and the animated way he would motion with his hands when explaining something, I wouldn’t be surprised. But whatever his reason, I wasn’t complaining. And for all his grouchiness sometimes, he was a _fantastic_ teacher.

Grumpy-face tilted his head to the sky as if praying for patience. “Out of all the nicknames you could have given me, you had to choose ‘Grumpy-kun,’” he muttered. “Do you address everyone so disrespectfully?”

“Only the lucky ones,” I grinned. “Makes things so much more interesting, don’t you think?” Judging from the way his eye twitched, he didn’t agree.

“Someday, someone is going to strangle you and I will be there to point and laugh when it happens,” he muttered. I thought that was being rather unfair. Given the way several of my ‘friends’ went out of their way to annoy _me,_ I thought it was only right that I be given someone to bug as well.

“But enough about that. How are you progressing in sensing your reiryoku flow?” He asked briskly, changing the subject. At his words, I groaned.

“I mean, when creating a kido spell, I can sense the energy as it flows down my arms easily enough. But tracking where it comes from before then…” My voice trailed off in frustration. Grumpy-face hummed thoughtfully.

“That is the problem most beginning kido practitioners struggle with. Because of the reiatsu vents in your wrists, the reiryoku in your arms is constantly leaking out in the form of reiatsu. Due to this, the concentration of reiryoku in your arms is much lower than in other parts of your body…and so when you direct reiryoku there, it is easy enough to sense its flow.”

“Right. But when I try to draw energy from the rest of my body, it just feels like I’m drawing energy from this massive pool of reiryoku. Like when I concentrate _really, really_ hard I can _maybe_ tell the general direction the energy is coming from, but for the most part it all feels the same, whether I’m doing a bakudo spell or a hadou one,” I grumbled.

“Unfortunately, the only thing you can really do to improve is meditate and practice. See, when you look at the reiryoku in your body, it’s a bit like looking at a pool of water.” He really was fond of metaphors, I was coming to discover. “On the surface, everything looks the same, and for the most part, it is…but imagine at the bottom of the pool there are holes randomly dispersed throughout. These holes differ in size, shape, and depth, and are where the reiatsu hotspots, as you like to call them, are located. Now, the water in this pool is mostly still, but imagine that there is a vent at one side of the pool. When it is opened, water from specific hotspots is sucked out—the surface of the pool is still mostly undisturbed, but at the bottom there are underwater currents moving from various areas towards the vent. Now your job is to sift through the rest of the water to find these currents. It requires an enormous amount of exploration of your own reiryoku system, but it’s certainly possible…assuming you aren’t as brain dead as I sometimes think you are.”

“Wow. For a moment I was actually impressed and then you had to go and ruin it all with that last bit,” I mumbled, scribbling furiously in my notebook. Insult or not, that was the best analogy I’d ever heard, and there was no way I was risking forgetting it later. “Still, keep this up and I might just call you ‘sensei’ someday.”

The look of horror that briefly flashed across Grumpy-face’s eyes caused me to sulk. “You don’t have to look so disgusted at the idea, you know. I’m not _that_ bad.” He was my teacher in everything but name at this point anyway, he just refused to admit it.

“You call me ‘Grumpy-kun’ and I am almost positive that your mouth will get you killed some day,” he said wryly. “The day I willingly take on that kind of responsibility for you is the day I give you full permission to send me to the Fourth for a mental checkup.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“And you’re a pain in the ass,” he replied blandly. I scowled heavily, preparing to open my mouth to deliver some appropriately cutting remark, when the whistle blew, signifying the end of class. Letting out a sigh, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small container of cookies.

“Here,” I said, shoving it at him with poor grace. He took it, expression mystified as he turned the container around in his hands. “For getting me the reiatsu-output sensing machine. I didn’t get to properly thank you last time.”

“How did you--” He began.

“—know it was you? Look, I’ve been trying to get approval to gain access to one of those machines for _weeks_ now--” Stupid stingy bastards. “—and two days after I mention it to you, the Kido Corps magically decides to change their minds? I’m not dumb.” Shifting awkwardly, I added, “I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I just went with the kinds I like best. I—I hope they’re okay, but if you want something else--”

“They’re fine,” Grumpy-face interrupted, before I could continue to babble at him. Poor guy was even less comfortable with displays of gratitude than I was. “Now scram, or you’re going to be late. I don’t think you can really afford to get kicked out of any more classes, can you? Your rank has already dropped several notches since you got banned from your kido classes.”

And hadn’t _that_ been fun to explain to Unohana. Just _thinking_ about the lecture she gave me caused me to shudder. And that wasn’t even including the guiltily worried looks Isane still sent me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it, considering the fact that I ended up with a _far_ more competent teacher than Matsushita ever was.

“Ranks are stupid.” I spent over half of one lifetime worrying about nothing but grades—fuck if I was going to do the same in this one. Knowledge yes, but grades? Grades could go screw themselves. “It’s not like I’m not _learning_ stuff. In fact, I’m learning more now than I ever did in class.”

Giving him a considering look, I added, “I’ve been meaning to ask you—how long is this recruiting job of yours supposed to go on for?”

“For as long as I deem necessary. Why do you ask?”

“Because even though you’re kind of a bastard, it’s a lot more fun to hang out with you than it is to spend all morning in class, going over the same material over and over again. It takes you like, one hour to cover what they spend ten classes teaching. I might even miss you when you leave. But if you’re still here by the time my ban gets lifted, well…” I paused thoughtfully. “I’m sure I could figure out some way to get banned again. So that I could continue to keep you company, yeah?”

Grumpy-face’s head shot up as he stared at me in alarm. “Wha—no! Yukimura, don’t—you can’t—that really isn’t necessary.” There was a distinct edge of panic in his voice now. I gave him my best reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t even be that hard; all I’d need to do is ‘accidentally’ set some asshole on fire again. Just a little, of course—I don’t want to get _kicked out_ of the Academy, after all.”

I really didn’t know why Grumpy-face dropped his face into his hands with a resigned moan. “Crazy,” he muttered. “Completely crazy.”

“I’m not crazy,” I protested. “Just…creative in how I choose to go about doing things.”

In response, he shoved me out of the tree.

 

* * *

 

Staring up at the front of the Eleventh Division headquarters, which was currently decorated with paintings of brightly colored flowers and butterflies, prancing bunnies, arching rainbows, flying fairies, as well as a life-sized unicorn, I decided that befriending Kusajishi Yachiru was one of the best decisions I’d ever made.

“It’s so—it’s so beautiful,” I said, sounding a bit choked up as I held a dripping paintbrush in one hand. Taking in the expressions of the surrounding Eleventh Division members—which varied from ‘aghast’ to ‘shell-shocked’—I wiped away a tear of joy. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

“What the hell is this?” A disbelieving voice demanded from somewhere to my left. “What even—does that horse have a _horn_ on its head?”

“Dummy Baldy, it’s a unicorn. Of course it has a horn on its head,” Yachiru said, blowing a raspberry at the Eleventh Division third seat from where she was perched on my shoulders.

“The fuck is a unicorn? And why is it so…” Words apparently failed him as he gestured to the sparkly monstrosity in front of him. It was a pity that I couldn’t find any glitter—still, I’d made due with sugar crystals that stuck to the paint and shimmered in the light.

“It’s a magical horse!” Yachiru sounded almost comically offended at his ignorance, especially considering the fact that she didn’t know what a unicorn was either until yesterday. “It goes around makin’ friends with pretty princesses and stuff and uses its horn to stab annoying boys who bug them before tramplin’ them into the ground! It’s the awesomest horse around! Dontcha even know _that?”_

Madarame spluttered in indignation. “Why, you brat! It’s not even _real._ And it looks unnatural as fuck—what kind of horse has eyelashes that long? Or a _pink mane?_ It’s creepy.”

“I don’t know, Ikkaku,” a new voice murmured. I blinked as Ayasegawa Yumichika—and it had to be him, who else had feathers attached to their eyelids?—walked up to Madarame and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. One side of his lips quirked up in amusement. “I think it has a certain charm to it, don’t you?” Glancing towards the bottom of the building where I’d painted a blue pool with a couple mermaids swimming about, he tilted his head to the side, looking like some kind of metrosexual art critic. “I especially like the creatures there. The scales are quite lovely.”

 “They’re mermaids. Other people call them sirens,” I explained, causing violet eyes to focus on me. “They prey on unsuspecting sailors at sea. Folklore says that their song is so enchanting that entire crews have been lead to ruin by falling under their spell—either by throwing themselves overboard or by wrecking their ships on the rocky coast of a siren’s island.” A faint smile crossed my face. “I must commend you on your taste, Ayesegawa-san. They’re my favorite too. After all, the most beautiful things have a certain kind of danger to them, no?”

Ayasegawa laughed, delighted. “Oh, I _like_ you. I’m afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage though, seeing as you know my name and I’m at a loss as to who you are.”

“I told ya about her, remember? This is Hisa-chan!” Yachiru interjected impatiently, causing me to wince as she pulled on my hair. Ayasegawa raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow while realization dawned in Madarame’s eyes.

“’Hisa-chan’? The same Hisa-chan who made those weird cookie-clones of us? Who Yachiru wouldn’t stop shutting up about these past few weeks?” Madarame asked.

“That would be me. Yukimura Hisana.” I bowed politely and when I looked up again, my smile contained just a hint of teeth. “Member of Squad 4 and kido specialist. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

For a moment, Madarame just gaped at me while even Ayasegawa looked taken aback. I heard a choked noise coming from somewhere behind me.

“You know,” Ayasegawa murmured, “Some might think it…unwise for a person to admit to such a thing after vandalizing our property.”

My eyes widened innocently. “Vandalism? I would never. All I did was help repaint your headquarters after receiving explicit permission from your Vice-Captain. Isn’t that right, Yachiru-chan?” My voice softened and Yachiru giggled before hopping down and grabbing my hand.

“Yup!” She chirped. “We had lotsa fun!”

“That’s right. We sure did,” I said, bending down to wipe a splotch of pink paint from her face with my sleeve.

“You do know that the Fourth and the Eleventh don’t exactly get along, don’t ya kid?” Madarame asked incredulously. I slowly stood back up before turning back to face him.

“Oh, I’m well aware. I just don’t see how it’s relevant. If you have a problem with me being a medic who specializes in kido, Madarame-san, Ayasegawa-san…” I shrugged, smile sharpening a fraction. “Well, I’ve never been in the habit of apologizing for what I am.”

There was a long pause. Then—

“This area needs more green to round out the blue,” Ayasegawa said mildly, picking up a paintbrush. Meanwhile, Madarame grumbled something nearly unintelligible—something about trying to salvage this painting before the Eleventh became the laughingstock of the Gotei 13—before picking up a brush as well and dipping it into red paint. I blinked, startled—friends with Yachiru or not, I hadn’t really expected them to give in so easily. My bewilderment must have shown on my face because Ayasegawa chuckled, leaning against a dry area of the wall.

“Relax, Yukimura. We’re not going to hurt you,” he said, smiling faintly. “Anyone who has the ability to deliver such an elegant ‘fuck you’—to our faces, no less—is alright by me.”

 

* * *

 

An hour into my mission and I was positive someone up there hated me.

“But isn’t this so exciting?” I barely resisted the urge to sigh as my…teammate chattered excitedly, large brown eyes shining with enthusiasm. “I still can’t believe I’m on a _real life actual mission._ Like, _wow._ I’ve spent _years_ training for this day and it’s finally come! No more scrubbing windows and mopping floors for me! Do you think if I do real well, Hirako-taicho will promote me? I mean, I haven’t activated my shikai yet, but--”

“Keep dreaming, kid,” the shinigami in front of us snorted, a derisive note in his voice. “Some brat like you earning a seated position? The day that happens, I’ll swallow my sword.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” the kid next to me—Tsutsui something—sulked. “I bet _you_ haven’t even unlocked your shikai yet, Masai-san. It’s why you’re still an unseated officer, isn’t it?”

“Why you--” Masai whirled around, face turning red with anger.

“Masai, calm down.” The sharp voice of our team leader—Naito Jin, the seventh seat of Squad 5—caused him to still. “Remember, this is a mission. We were sent here to scout for hollows, not to engage in petty spats.”

“Some mission,” Masai grumbled resentfully as soon as Naito’s back turned again. “This is a complete waste of time—there hasn’t been a single hollow in sight. Bad enough that we have to bring along some girl from the Fourth _and_ babysit some newbie brat.” He noticed me staring at him and scowled. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering how long it’d take you to notice that you were standing in poison ivy,” I said mildly.

Masai let out a vicious curse and I allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction before continuing ahead. This wasn’t my first mission, of course, but the majority of my missions had been located within the walls of the Seireitei. I’d been on a few in the Rukongai, mostly scouting missions like this one in the woods between nearby districts. It appeared that here, at least, the Gotei 13 at least _pretended_ to care about those who lived in the Rukongai. Although the missions were more for appearance’s sake than anything else. Sure, occasionally there would be larger attacks, but this was my third one and I’d yet to run into more than four or five weak hollows.

Honestly, the only reason I was even here in the first place was because Unohana decided I needed more field experience. Although Fourth Division members mostly stayed away from battle, arriving only when the fighting had ceased, occasionally a combat team on a long term or particularly risky mission would request two or three Fourth Division members in case anything _did_ go wrong. So I needed to have an idea of how team dynamics worked…thus the reason why I’d been going on these short, relatively-safe scouting missions for the past month or so.

“That was great!” Tsutsui laughed, bounding up to me. He wasn’t a bad kid really, he just _wouldn’t shut up._ “The way you just stared him down like that! Hey, have _you_ activated your shikai yet? It’s okay if you haven’t; it takes some people a while. Some people _never_ do—can you imagine? Like how awful would that be? _I’m_ not going to be one of them, of course; it’s really only a matter of time. I wonder what kind it’ll be; I’m hoping for a combat type like my brother, but kido wouldn’t be _too_ bad, I guess. There are some cool kido types. But still, I’m really hoping for a combat type…and I’m almost positive I’ll get one, because I’m just that kind of person, you know?”

“I’m sure,” I said in a monotone, hoping that he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

“Do you think we’re gonna run into any hollows today? I’ve only really fought in spars and training simulations—you know, those fake hollow things the Twelfth came up with. Not in a real _battle._ My brother—he’s the ninth seat in Muguruma-taicho’s squad, you know—says that’s why I’m still a kid, because I haven’t had my first real fight, but I’m _not._ A kid, I mean—I’m _ready._ All my family’s been shinigami, you know? So those hollows won’t stand a _chance_ once I get to them.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I murmured quietly. “I can understand wanting to prove yourself and battle may seem like a great opportunity for glory, but…don’t forget that hollows are dangerous creatures. It’s not a game, Tsutsui-san.”

Tsutsui grinned confidently at me. “Are you worried, Yukimura-san? Don’t be; I’ve been preparing for this all my life. I was even top of my zanjutsu class during my final year,” he boasted. “I’d never lose against a filthy hollow so don’t be afraid. I know that you’re a medic so you might not be used to fights, but I’ll protect you.”

My eye twitched minutely, but before I could say anything, Masai let out an ugly snort from behind us. “Please, why don’t you just tell the girl that you want to get into her pants? Save the rest of us from having to deal with your pathetic attempt at flirting. You’ve been trailing behind her like a puppy this entire goddamn trip.”

Tsutsui flushed, the back of his neck turning a dark, brick red as I blinked in surprise. _What--?_

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spluttered in embarrassment. “And I haven’t been _trailing behind her,_ you bas--”

“Quiet!” Naito barked out suddenly as I stiffened at the unmistakable sound of a hollow screaming in the distance. Closing my eyes, I extended my senses, counting _one, two—_

“At least a dozen weak to medium strength hollows, possibly more,” I said quietly, turning to face Naito. Beside me, Masai had gone pale while Tsutsui seemed to be all but vibrating in excitement.

“That’s what I counted too, and there’s another group coming from the east. I’ll need to call in reinforcements,” Naito said briskly, holding one hand in front of him. His reiatsu flared for an instant, and a jigokuchou appeared above his palm. “We’ll deal with the first group in the meantime. Yukimura, stay back. If any of us gets seriously injured, get us out of the fighting.”

I nodded, and had just managed to scale a tree when the first hollow appeared—a giant, twenty-foot tall one with claws as big as I was. Biting back a curse, I climbed up another ten feet.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes later, I was swearing viciously as I barely managed to dodge a giant fist that would have crushed me into a bloody pulp. We’d gone over the basics of shunpo in the Academy, but I still needed several seconds to concentrate before I was able to do it—seconds that I didn’t have right now.

“I thought I told you to stay out of the fighting!” Naito yelled at me from where he was simultaneously pushing back two hollows. He’d slipped into shikai the first two minutes of the fight, and was now swinging around a massive broadsword with grooves in the side.

“I TRIED!” I screamed back. “I’d like to see _you_ stay back when some dick hollow decides to cut down the tree you’re hiding in and knocks you into the center of the fight--” The rest of my words were cut off as I swung my sword and cut off a tentacle-like arm that reached for me. Because my luck was shitty as hell, this just caused two more tentacles to erupt from the bloody stump. “Ah, fuck this shit. Bakudou #4: Hainawa!”

Yellow ropes of energy flashed through the air, wrapping around the hollow’s tentacles. Before it could recover, I enhanced my legs and feet with reiatsu before jumping up and stabbing my zanpakuto into its head viciously. As I wiped the ensuing spurt of blood out of my eyes, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision caused me to turn—a tail with razor sharp spines on it was whipping towards me, it was coming too fast, there was no way I’d be able to—

A giant sword blocked the tail a fraction of a second before it would have knocked into my body. “Thank you, Naito-san,” I said gratefully.

“Watch your back, Yukimura,” Naito scolded. I nodded, shooting a Byakurai spell at a hollow that was sneaking up behind Masai. For the most part, he seemed to be holding his own, and as for Tsutsui, he—he was—

“That dumbass moron!” I said, suddenly furious. Naito glanced at me warily, before blocking off another hollow’s blow with a curse.

“What is it?” He demanded as we slowly fought our way to where Masai was standing.

“Tsutsui’s heading towards the second group of hollows,” I said, so stunned by the depth of this stupidity that I almost didn’t duck in time to prevent a hollow from taking my head off.

With a snarl, I reached up, grabbed its arm, and sent a burst of electricity down the limb, frying every neuron in the way. As the hollow let out a howl of pain, I sprinted up and stabbed my zanpakuto into its stomach.

“What the fuck are they even teaching kids at the Academy anymore? ‘Suicide Lessons 101’?” Masai asked in disbelief, apparently having heard my earlier words. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, dripping blood. “Fuck, we’re having enough trouble here and the idiot decides to run off towards the _bigger_ group of hollows?”

Naito’s eyes tightened, even as he jumped up and decapitated another hollow coming in from his left.

“We’re occupied here. There’s nothing we can do for him,” he said after a moment’s pause. I swallowed at the deliberate implication in his words.

“So—what, we’re just gonna let him _die?”_ I asked, feeling oddly numb. “He…he’s just a kid.” An annoying stupid kid who was lacking a brain, sure, but a kid nevertheless. A kid who had a big brother waiting for him at home.

“If he chose to ignore orders, then he has to be prepared to face the consequences,” Naito said coldly. “There are no children on the battlefield; only soldiers.”

I shook my head, even as I jumped up and swung at another hollow, slicing its throat wide open. “He hasn’t reached them yet. If I move quickly, I can still stop him.”

“Wha—Yukimura, no!” Naito said, his eyes widening in alarm as he reached towards me. Too late; taking a moment to pinpoint Tsutsui’s reiatsu signature, I took a deep breath and _moved._

* * *

 

I arrived just in time to yank Tsutsui to the side and prevent him from getting gored.

“What are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here!” I yelled, just as another five hollows burst through the trees. “Run!”

Without waiting to see if Tsutsui followed my orders, I held my left hand out in front of me. “Hadou #32: Okasen!”

A flare of bright yellow fire swept towards the incoming hollows in a wide arc, frying two and injuring another. It wasn’t enough—more and more hollows kept arriving, and I backed up, trying to prevent them from surrounding us. Next to me, Tsutsui was holding off a massive hollow with giant pincers for arms. He’d just managed to stab it in the throat, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, when another hollow crept up on him from behind, whip-cords extending from its mouth wrapping around Tsutsui’s waist. He cried out in pain as he was yanked off his feet, the cords cutting deeply into his skin, before I sliced through the ropelike structure with a grunt of annoyance. He fell to the ground, stunned, before his eyes widened with fright as he took in the multitude of hollows now filling the clearing, the way we were outnumbered ten to one…and what was this, some kind of hollow family reunion? Feed-On-Yummy-Shinigami day? Whatever it was, I wanted no part in it.

Grabbing Tsutsui by the arm, I shoved him in the direction of the woods, before sending another wave of scorching yellow energy towards the hollows. Hopefully it’d buy us some time. “Go!”

For once, he listened to me, stumbling forward before sprinting away without hesitation. I turned to follow when something knocked into me from the side, sending me flying. I crashed painfully into a tree before crumpling to the ground. Black spots swam through my line of vision as I sat up, struggling to breathe. The next instant I was throwing myself to the side as sharp claws sank into the earth where I’d been just a second ago. Grabbing my zanpakuto and ignoring the tang of blood in my mouth from when I’d bitten through my tongue earlier, I stood up unsteadily— _chestwasburningnotimetoheal—_ and barely managed to block the hollow’s next strike with shaking arms. The hollow laughed, harsh and sadistic _,_ before grasping my blade with a clawed hand and forcing my arms up, trapping them against the tree. It grinned, cruel and hungry and utterly _inhuman,_ before leaning down until its skull-like face was all I could see.

“Most of the others ran ahead to chase after your friends, but you’ll make a nice snack,” it said in a raspy whisper, its other hand shooting out as I struggled futilely to free myself, and then—

My throat tore open as I _screamed,_ as unforgiving claws punctured my stomach, reaching into me, _through_ me, digging through my innards with careless cruelty and raking down my abdomen before _twisting,_ causing my voice to cut off with a choked gasp of sheer agony until all I could manage were hitching little sobs of pain, and in that moment, I’d do anything, _anything,_ to escape this torture, for it to just _end already_ —

And then it was fading away and I was falling, falling, falling ( _like Alice in Wonderland,_ my mind thought hysterically) until I landed on the banks of a very familiar lake. I blinked, taking in the cracks spreading through my soul world, causing trees to tremble and fall and the ground to shake. They hadn’t quite reached the willow tree yet, although faint cracks were already beginning to appear on the edges of the island. I had bigger things to worry about though.

“Wha—no! Send me back! I can’t be here right now!” I said frantically. “Goddamn it, what the hell kind of timing is this? In case you didn’t notice, I’m kind of _dying_ right now! I don’t have time to be here!”

“Don’t you?” My zanpakuto spirit murmured, faintly muted as always. “Didn’t you wish to get away from the pain?”

“Well, _yes,_ experiencing blinding pain isn’t exactly on my list of top things to do, but I want to die even less!” I bit out, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. “Don’t you understand? I _can’t_ die yet! So send me back, already!”

“You have a hollow rooting through your innards right now, and a moment ago, you were in so much pain you couldn’t even think straight,” my zanpakuto spirit pointed out. “You really think you can win?”

“Doesn’t matter what the odds are,” I said, fists clenching at my sides. I thought about Rukia, the rest of my family, how devastated they’d be if I never came back again. About Unohana, that proud glint in her eyes when she looked at me, about Kaien and dinners at the Shiba house, about Ukitake’s illness and Isane’s growing self-confidence, about Chiyo’s soft smile and Hiro’s mischievousness and Eiji’s faintly exasperated look. About Byakuya, and how he was so beautiful it _hurt_ to look at him sometimes, and yet I couldn’t stop myself because the way he looked at me in return—like I was something wondrous and amazing and miraculous—made me feel like I could do anything.

“I _have_ to live,” I said quietly, voice firm and unwavering. “There’s no other option.”

There was a moment of silence and then the sound of a soft, ringing laugh filled the air. “Now there’s the fire I was looking for. Look up.”

Tilting my head back, I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping at the sight of an eagle sized bird perched on the lowest branch of the willow tree, with wings of deep cobalt blue and viridian green. It watched me with wise golden eyes, ethereal and otherworldly, feathers wreathed in luminescent fire.

“A phoenix,” I breathed out. “Are you—are you my partner?” My question came out uncertain, hesitant.

Golden eyes softened. “If you’ll have me, Hisana.”

“I—I would be honored to,” I stuttered, suddenly finding it hard to speak.

The next thing I knew, there was a heavy weight on my shoulder and the sensation of soft feathers tickling my cheek. “Then I believe we have a fight to finish, little firebird.” The look of sudden intense _pride_ in golden eyes took my breath away. “Don’t worry. Yours will be a beautiful rebirth.”

She nuzzled my face gently. “Now call my name—you’ve earned it.”

My surroundings faded away and I found myself looking back up into a merciless bone mask, the sudden onslaught of _agony_ leaving me breathless. Gritting my teeth, I wrenched my wrists free with a sudden fervor—ignoring the way the claws sliced through skin, muscles, and blood vessels alike—and stabbed my zanpakuto into the arm still in my torso. The hollow let out a grunt of pain before yanking his hand out of my body.

Staggering to my feet, one hand clutching my abdomen to keep my guts from falling out, I offered the hollow a bloody smile and uttered just one phrase—one that felt as natural as breathing. “Rise, Tenshi no Tsubasa.”

Inside my head, the cry of a phoenix rang out, bright and delighted, as my zanpakuto began to glow, brilliant blue flames spiraling down the length of the blade to the hilt—transforming the katana into a simple but elegant double-edged straight sword in the process—before finally reaching my hand. A gasp escaped my lips as electrifying energy rushed through my body, erasing all hints of pain and weariness and leaving only a tingling sensation behind as azure fire flickered over my mutilated wrists and erased gaping tears, sealed the fractures in my ribs, and when the flames reached my abdomen, I looked down to see intestines, organs, and muscle knitting together until nothing but smooth skin remained.

The whole process took only seconds and by the end of it, it felt like every single cell in my body was _singing,_ and I’d never felt so alive, everything seemed so _intense_ —the colors around me looked brighter, somehow, the edges of things sharper and more defined—and when the hollow charged at me with a roar of rage, I danced out of the way easily before jumping up and swinging down from behind, my sword cutting into muscle and bone as smoothly as _butter_ and even as another half-dozen hollows charged at me, attracted by the spike in my spiritual energy, I wasn’t afraid because _nothing_ could touch me right now, my heart pounding and liquid light coursing through my blood, and it felt like I was walking on _stars—_

_Is this what flying feels like?_ I asked, leaping up to avoid a spiky tail that lashed at my feet. In that moment, I felt weightless, like I’d just shed all my burdens. _Like freedom?_

_Like nothing can hold you back,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa agreed fondly. _You were born to fly, Hisana._

_I feel like I could dance like this forever,_ I said, throwing back my head with a giddy laugh even as warm blood splattered on my face. A claw grazed my back, ripping through my shihakusho into skin and muscle and sending pain lancing through me, but even then it didn’t matter because pain meant that I was still _alive_ and it was gone in an instant anyway, replaced by electric ecstasy and effervescent warmth as ripples of blue fire coursed through the area and there was just _so much_ sensation that I wondered how my heart could handle it.

_Just remember not to fly too close to the sun, little firebird,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa murmured. _Your cells are in peak condition right now, and your strength, speed and reflexes have enhanced greatly, but you are not infallible. I cannot heal everything, and you cannot hold this state forever._ She hesitated. _It would be prudent for you to head back to your comrades now before your reiatsu runs out._

I hesitated—why be cautious when every bruise vanished in seconds, when every broken bone and cut healed over instantaneously, after all?—but I conceded that she had a point.

_I suppose you’re right_ , I said, leaping off a tree branch to dodge a blow from another hollow. _After I deal with these two, I’ll start heading back._

At least that was the plan. As I swung down to deliver the finishing blow on the second hollow after trading blows for several minutes, I faltered, a wave of dizziness overcoming me. The hollow took advantage of my hesitation, one fist drawing back before punching in the stomach. I flew against…into…through a tree before finally skidding to a halt a solid fifty feet away. Already, I could feel the fractures in my bones mending together, flares of blue fire visible through my uniform, but…my healing rate was slower than before, the hollow was almost upon me, and I wouldn’t be able to avoid it completely—

“Looks like ya got yourself into a bit of trouble, Hisana-chan,” a familiar voice murmured in my ear, causing my eyes to widen in shock. “Need a hand?”

Before I could say anything—like a resounding _no, go away you weirdo—_ Gin stood up from where he’d crouched next to me, ever-present smile widening a fraction.

“Shoot to kill, Shinsou,” he said softly. My jaw dropped as his wakizashi extended at an impossible speed, impaling the hollow in front of us…as well as the two hollows behind it. It was over in an instant after that.

“Well?” He asked, turning to me. “Whaddya think? Impressed?” In response, I tilted my head up to the sky in a silent gesture of _why me._

“Out of all the people they could have sent for reinforcements,” I said disbelievingly, “they had to send _you?”_ There was no justice in the world.

“Well now, how could I turn down the opportunity to go see my favorite healer?” He grinned. Inside my head, Tenshi no Tsubasa grumbled something about fox-faced snakes, which were…apparently her two least favorite animals. Figures. “I’ve barely seen ya these past few days, which is so sad—I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere _.”_

“What a coincidence, Ichimaru-san. I have been avoiding you everywhere,” I said blandly. It was a little hard to think clearly—it still felt like my head was buzzing with energy, like there was fire licking at my veins—but honestly, I didn’t need to. Trading sarcastic barbs with Ichimaru Gin was practically instinct by now.

Gin pouted. “So mean. Some gratitude would be appreciated, ya know. Although,” he mused thoughtfully, “ya seemed like ya were handlin’ it for the most part. Activatin’ your shikai three months into the Academy? And such an interestin’ ability too.” His eyes slid open a fraction. “Ya never fail ta surprise me.”

Not quite sure how to respond, I chose to ignore his comment in favor of deactivating my shikai. As soon as my zanpakuto reformed into a katana, a sudden wave of exhaustion passed over me, blackening my vision for a second. I staggered, legs buckling, and barely managed to grab onto a nearby tree in time to remain upright.

“Ya okay, there?” Gin asked, studying me closely as I sagged against the tree, body feeling about ten times heavier than normal. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I waved him off sluggishly, a frown on my face. I hadn’t realized that I’d depleted my reiatsu to this extent. “Just a little tired.”

“Hmm…well, in that case…” The mischievous expression that crossed Gin’s face was all the warning I received before I found myself flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. _That_ woke me up.

“Wha—Oi!” I thrashed in his grip. When that didn’t work, I started pounding his back with my fists. “Leggo of me, you jerk! This is harassment! Set me down! You’ll regret this, just you wait!”

“Calm down, Hisana-chan. I’m just try’na help.”

“I don’t need your goddamn help! I can walk just fine! Let me down this instant or I swear to the Soul King, I’ll shoot a fireball at your ass--”

“I don’t think ya really have the reiatsu to spare, Hisana-chan,” he said condescendingly.

My eyes narrowed. Digging my elbows into his back, I leaned up, tilted my head to the side so that I was facing his neck, and then sank my teeth viciously into his skin _._

_Chomp._

Gin hissed in pain, instinctively dropping me to the ground. I landed on my butt with a grunt as Gin stared down at me in shock.

“Did ya just… _bite_ me?” He asked incredulously. One hand drifted up to his neck, where the bite mark was already fading.

“Serves you right. I did warn you,” I sniffed imperiously, tilting my nose up. Getting unsteadily to my feet—I was proud to say that I was only swaying slightly—I proceeded to stalk off. I made it all of five feet before Gin spoke up again, voice dry.

“You _do_ know that you’re walkin’ in the wrong direction, don’t ya?”

I flushed heavily before promptly making a 180 and walking back, refusing to look anywhere in Gin’s vicinity. “Right. I knew that. I was just…admiring the scenery over there for a moment.” As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them.

“Of course, Hisana-chan.” The amused, disbelieving note in Gin’s voice caused me to wince. “If ya don’t mind me askin’, what was it that caught your attention? Was it the uprooted trees? Or perhaps the splatters of blood decoratin’ the ground? Kinda morbid, especially for a healer, but I guess I can see some aesthetic value in--”

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point!” I interrupted loudly, well aware that I’d lost this round. “Now shut up and start walking; I’d like to be back at the Seireitei before the end of this decade, if at all possible.”

“Your wish is my command, m’lady,” Gin mocked, sidling up to me. “Although, I gotta ask—are ya always this pushy? Because if even a fraction of the rumors about you and Kuchiki are true…well, I hadn’t pinned him as the type of guy to like bein’ bossed around in the bedroom, but I get that some people are into that kinda stuff, if ya know that I mean--”

“Say another word and I’ll show you pushy, all right. I’ll push you right off the side of a cliff, I _swear to god--”_

“Temper, temper! Why, I might have ta report ya for threatenin’ a superior officer. And that would be such a shame, dontcha think, Hisana-chan?”

“I’m sure they’d understand. It’s _you,_ after all. I’d be doing the world a favor.”

 

* * *

 

By the time we caught up to the others, my entire body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and my hands felt cold and clammy—due to a combination of reiatsu exhaustion and blood loss, I suspected. Still, I trudged on stubbornly, ignoring the grey fuzziness at the edges of my vision and the dizzy spells that wracked me every few minutes. It’d be a cold day in hell before I let myself be carried home by _Ichimaru Gin;_ they’d have to knock me unconscious first.

Of course, this all faded into the background as soon as I saw Tsutsui. From the looks of it, he was currently being reprimanded harshly by Naito, who looked up at my entrance.

“Yukimura! You’re ali—” Naito cut himself off abruptly, switching sentences midway. “Are you alright? You--” His eyes drifted over my tattered uniform, lingering on the tear in middle of my shirt. “You’re covered in blood!”

 I ignored him, instead storming right up to Tsutsui and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Brown eyes widened in alarm as I yanked him down so that his face was inches from mine.

“If you _ever,”_ I growled, practically spitting with fury, “do anything like that again, I will dismember you slowly and painfully before throwing your bloody remains to the hollows myself. Got it?”

“She’s supposed to be from the _Fourth?”_ I heard Masai mutter disbelievingly as Tsutsui nodded, face pale with terror.

A hand on my shoulder caused me to stiffen. “Careful, Hisana-chan,” Gin said silkily, leaning down that his lips were by my ear. “Your fangs are showin’.”

I huffed, releasing Tsutsui with a sharp glare. He promptly stumbled several steps back in fright. “He’s lucky. The only reason I’m not strangling him right now is because I just risked my life to save his sorry ass, and it would be kind of counterproductive if I killed him now.” _Should have just let him die,_ I thought uncharitably, one hand subconsciously drifting to my midsection. _It’d be natural selection at that point._

“Is that so?” Gin murmured as he turned to Tsutsui, something dangerous darkening his tone. “Let me guess what happened. Seein’ as I found Hisana-chan several hundred meters away from everyone else fightin’ a group of hollows on her own, and I _know_ she ain’t stupid enough to wander off by herself for no good reason, I’m gonna say that Tsutsui-kun here decided tha’ this was the perfect opportunity to show off and maybe gain a bit of glory for himself. Only he found himself a bit in over his head and so Hisana-chan had ta bail him out. And in repayment for her savin’ his life, he decided to turn tail and run like the coward he is, leavin’ her behind to hold the hollows off. Is that right, Tsutsui-kun?” Gin’s voice was soft, almost a whisper—poison dripping from a wound.

Tsutsui flushed an ugly brick red all the way up to the tips of his ears, but either he had more balls than I’d given him credit for, or he was every bit as stupid as I’d previously assumed, because he jerked his head up and glared at Gin.

“That ain’t true! I didn’t leave her behind—not on purpose, at least! I thought she was right behind me the whole time!” He spat out, humiliation and anger written all over his face. “And you’re being unfair, I…I didn’t go after those hollows because I was _stupid,_ they were gonna reach us any minute anyway and you guys were taking your sweet time coming here, so I thought I’d head out and hold them off…and yeah, Hi—I mean, Yukimura-san may have helped me out, and…okay, she may have gotten hurt, but she seems to be fine now and besides, I didn’t _mean_ to! And who do you think you are, addressing her so familiarly anyway?!”

I winced, resisting the urge to bury my face in my hands as an expression of delighted cruelty flashed across Gin’s face. Tsutsui couldn’t have given him any more ammunition if he’d _tried._

“Oh, this is precious,” Gin threw his head back and laughed. I could see Masai trying to surreptitiously inch away behind Gin’s back. Man had good survival instincts, I had to admit. “It all makes so much more sense now. Not that I blame you—Hisana-chan _is_ quite a catch, after all. Kind, skilled, patient enough ta put up with ya imbecilic ramblin’; ya must have been ecstatic ta come along on this mission. And what better way to impress the pretty healer than ta prove your worth by showin’ her yer strong enough ta protect her?” Gin’s smile sharpened a fraction and Tsutsui faltered under his gaze.

“I—that’s not tr--” He mumbled, unable to tear his gaze from the ground.

“Funny how things turn out, huh? Not only did ya fail ta be the hero, but ya also almost got yer crush killed by attempting ta do so.” Gin’s smile never wavered, even as an edge of disgust crept into his voice. Tsutsui paled, looking like he was about to be sick. “I’ll need ta tell Hirako-taicho ta do a better job screenin’ the new applicants, because the last time I checked, the Fifth wasn’t a place for brainless, pathetic _worms_ to cower in, hidin’ their weaknesses behind delusions of grandeur. Tell me, because I’m _dyin’_ ta know…how does it feel, as a warrior, ta need a _healer_ ta rescue you? Not only a healer, but an _Academy student?”_

At his words, Tsutsui’s head shot up even as Naito stiffened, sending me an incredulous look. Masai’s jaw dropped.

“Wha—what are you talking about?” Tsutsui blurted out, shaken. “Yukimura’s not…Yukimura’s not an Academy student. She’s got a zanpakuto and everything, and she’s part of the Fourth.”

“Ah yes, the Fourth’s newest intern,” Gin mused, tilting his head to the side. “Unohana-taicho was very quick to snatch her up—a masterful move, I must admit. Lookin’ at her now, you’d hardly think she only had around three months of trainin’ under her, would ya? Which is why I’d have been rather upset if ya got her killed—students with potential are so hard ta come by these days.” Tsutsui looked stricken.

 “A… _first year?”_ He whispered, apparently stuck on that fact. Gin smiled. There wasn’t an ounce of friendliness in it.

“Do be more careful next time, okay, Tsutsui-kun?” His voice was deceptively cheerful as he reached out and ruffled Tsutsui’s hair, ignoring his flinch. “Wouldn’t want a repeat of this incident—flirtin’ with students, then almost gettin’ them killed in the field after dependin’ on them ta cover for you…why, that kinda thing would leave a black mark on anyone’s record. Such a shame… and I’d heard such good things about your family too. What would they think?”

“I—I don’t--” Tsutsui blurted out, voice choked with panic. Beads of sweat formed on his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “P-please don’t tell them, Ichimaru-sama, this—this sort of news would _kill_ them and…and I c-can’t embarrass them like this, not on my first mission and I’ll do _anything,_ just don’t mention it on my rec--”

With a tired sigh, I reached out and tugged on Gin’s sleeve. He turned to face me, one eyebrow quirked up. “Yes, Hisana-chan?”

I considered my options. Sure, I _could_ make some kind of moral argument as to why Gin shouldn’t be deriving so much enjoyment from watching the kid squirm like a worm caught on a hook, but I really didn’t have the energy right now and the idiot _did_ kind of have it coming. Maybe now, he’d think twice before doing something so stupid again. But then, the only thing that could really distract Gin when he got like this was to catch him off guard, so—

“I’m hungry, Ichimaru-san,” I said bluntly, tilting my chin up. “Do something about it.” Masai choked on his spit while Tsutsui fell silent, gaping at me.

A flash of startled amusement crossed Gin’s face. “Oh? And why on earth should I?”

“Because by my last estimate, you owe me six pieces of dango, four balls of mochi, half a cup of tea…oh, and three cookies that I was saving for Yachiru-chan,” I said, counting them off on my fingers. Placing my hands on my hips, I scowled at him. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know. I’d normally hold a grudge, but I’m hungry and so I’m giving you this chance to redeem yourself.”

“That’s…I can’t believe ya actually kept track. Stingy little brat, aren’t ya?”

“Outer Rukongai,” I said simply. “I take food _very_ seriously.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Gin said thoughtfully. “Still, we have a rule where I come from; if ya can’t protect it, then ya deserve ta have it stolen from ya. Haven’t ya heard? Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

“Oh sure,” I agreed amiably. “I was just giving you an easy way out, because I’m nice. You wouldn’t mind if I kept this then, would you?” With that, I smirked as I held up a decent-sized pouch of kan—more than enough to cover any food costs.

For a moment, Gin gaped at me, genuinely taken aback. “Wha—when did you--”

“And this is why you should never throw a lady over your shoulder like some kind of barbarian,” I said smugly, sticking my tongue out at him. My lock-picking skills may have deteriorated, but my pick-pocketing ones hadn’t…and in the moment that Gin had dropped me to the ground, I hadn’t been able to resist slipping one hand inside his shihakusho and grabbing the bag of money I’d felt there.

_Take that._

Gin stared at me for a moment longer before he grinned, slow and predatory. “Oh, so that’s how ya wanna play the game, is it, Hisana-chan? Well, far be it from me ta object.”

My smile faltered as I inwardly considered the possibility that I maybe, might have, perhaps bit off a little more than I could chew this time and the faint chance that I might be, perhaps, just a teensy-bit screwed. Glancing out of the corner of my eye frantically, I noted the way that Naito seemed to be doing his best to edge away unnoticed. Well, fuck that—if I was going down, I was dragging someone down with me.

Naito let out a cry of shock as I abruptly tackled him, flinging myself onto his back. “You know shunpo, right?” I hissed into his ear, wrapping my arms around his chest in a vice-like grip. “Then _run.”_

He didn’t need any more encouraging.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, I was cursing Ichimaru Gin using every swearword I knew (and quite a few that I made up on the spot) as I was carried into the Seireitei bound tightly in ropes—why did he have this much rope with him in the first place anyway?—from the shoulders down. As it turned out, a seventh seat was really no match for a third seat, especially a freakishly powerful genius one like Gin was.

Glaring at nothing in particular, I took a minute to regret all the life decisions I’d made that’d led to this moment—starting with rescuing Tsutsui a second time. It took a large amount of energy to deal with Gin on a good day and, well…I’d be lying if I said that I was at my best right now. Actually, the only thing keeping me alert at the moment was probably the fact that my body went into ‘fight-or-flight’ mode every time I was within ten feet of the third seat—I’d have to be more tired than this to let my guard down around him.

“Ya know that you’re only attractin’ more attention by yellin’ so much, right?” Gin murmured to me. I paused in the midst of making some rather lewd insinuations about his great-grandfather and a goat.

“I’m slung over your shoulder wrapped up like some kind of mutant caterpillar, and you want to talk to me about _attracting attention?”_ I asked in disbelief. “Besides, I’m still holding out hope that if I yell loud enough, one of those cowards will stop staring and actually _do something.”_

“Good luck with that,” Gin laughed as we approached the doors of the Fourth Division headquarters. “Then again,” he mused as we felt a familiar reiatsu signature approaching. I stiffened and promptly resumed struggling. The last thing I wanted was Byakuya and Gin in the same room—something told me they wouldn’t get along. “Ya do have a surprising number of rather…interestin’ friends.”

“At least _untie me,”_ I hissed out as a nervous-looking nurse directed us to a waiting room for the standard mission-that-went-dreadfully-wrong checkup. It was empty, thank the lord. “I look ridiculous.”

“Yes, you do,” Gin agreed easily, setting me down next to him on a sofa. A gleeful look of anticipation crossed his face as Byakuya’s reiatsu signature reached the door, and I immediately knew that I wouldn’t like what happened next.

I didn’t like what happened next.

“Ack! What are you—let go of me!” I yelped as Gin forcefully pulled me against his side at the same time the door slid open. “Ugh, don’t _touch_ me, you creep--”

“What is going on here?” I looked up to see Byakuya standing at the doorway. Gray eyes narrowed as they took in the way Gin had me pressed tightly against him.

“Ah, Kuchiki-fukutaicho! So glad to see ya!” Gin called out cheerfully, one hand wrapped around my shoulders to prevent me from squirming away.

“Hey, Byakuya,” I said weakly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it back in time for our plans, but--” My eye twitched as I tried, and failed, to head-butt Gin. “—something came up.” In retrospect, maybe it was a good thing I was covered from shoulder to toe in ropes. I didn’t even want to imagine Byakuya’s reaction to the bigger bloodstains. “I’m fine, really.” I smiled winningly up at him. “Not a scratch on me, promise.”

“I can confirm that,” Gin purred from beside me. “I examined her _very_ thoroughly.” My eye twitched again. Like hell he did.

Byakuya’s face might as well have been carved from stone for all the gentleness it contained at that moment.

“Release her this instant,” he demanded, eyes like chips of flint. “This kind of behavior is appalling, Ichimaru Gin.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Kuchiki-fukutaicho,” Gin said, feigning regret. “See, I had ta tie her up ta stop her from doin’ somethin’ she might…regret later. Although that reminds me,” his voice trailed off thoughtfully as he turned to me. “I still have ta pay you back for earlier.”

I stiffened in shock and outrage at the sensation of dry lips on my neck, just below my right ear. Sharp teeth latched onto my skin, biting down teasingly—just enough to sting, not enough to draw blood—before a wet tongue swept out over the area.

Byakuya’s reiatsu lashed out, uncontrolled and _furious,_ there was the sliding sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath, and then—

“My, my, what an _awful_ temper!” Gin exclaimed mockingly, holding his hands up in surrender. He seemed completely unconcerned about the sword held at his jugular, and I wondered if he was actively suicidal. Would explain a lot, actually. “And so quick ta attack! I suppose that’s somethin’ you and Hisana-chan have in common; I was startin’ ta wonder.” Gin’s chin tilted just slightly to the side as he let out a low chuckle.

“Have ya ever seen her in battle, Kuchiki? No? Such a shame. I assure ya, it’s the _prettiest_ sight. All bright eyes and flushed cheeks, reddened lips, channelin’ all that energy into her every move, body _twisting_ through the air…what man could resist?” He smiled darkly, suggestively. “Why, I might have ta speak with Unohana-taicho about requestin’ her for a few more missions myself, and I’m sure I won’t be the only one…a view like _that…”_

Pale eyes opened a fraction as Senbonzakura dug deeper into his throat, causing a thin line of red to appear.

“I will not repeat myself.” Byakuya’s voice was harder than steel and twice as unforgiving. “Step away from her.”

“And why should I listen ta you? Ain’t like she’s yours, after all,” Gin said slyly, voice deceptively casual. Byakuya’s grip on Senbonzakura tightened as he flinched minutely, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second. Gin’s smile widened.

_I’ll tear him into pieces for you,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa offered in my head.

_No need,_ I thought scowling, finally managing to wriggle around enough in my cocoon of ropes to locate one of the knives strapped to my waist, before proceeding to slice through my prison. The ropes fell away and I lost no time in carefully pushing Byakuya’s sword away before elbowing Gin viciously in the gut, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his startled yelp.  

“Hisana-chaaan,” Gin whined, clutching his stomach. I shot him a vicious glare.

“As you’ve so eloquently pointed out just now, I am my own person and thus, the only one allowed to speak for me is _me._ Now I’m currently trying to recover from my mission to hell and I’ve decided that seeing your face is detrimental to my health so--” Seizing his arm, I proceeded to drag him none-too-gently towards the door before shoving him out. “—and don’t you _dare_ come back in unless you want me to tell Unohana-taicho that you’re interfering with the recovery of one of her patients—namely, me. Understood?” With that, I slammed the door in his face before making my way back to the sofa and promptly collapsing on it.

 “Sorry about that,” I murmured tiredly, rubbing at my eyes. Now that Gin was gone, the last of my adrenaline was fading away quickly as the events of the past few hours caught up to me. I felt like I could sleep for the next two decades or so. “He seems to have made it his life’s goal to be as big of a pain in the ass as possible.” I yawned, struggling to keep my eyes open. “He doesn’t actually mean any of it—it’s all just a bunch of crap—so just ignore him, it’s what I do--”

“No,” Byakuya interrupted, an odd edge to his voice. “No, he was right.”

“Eh?” I mumbled sleepily, leaning back on the couch. My eyes drifted shut. “About what?”

I was half asleep when gentle hands helped position me into a more comfortable position. They lingered briefly on the tattered hole in the middle of my uniform before reaching up to brush the hair out of my face.

 “You do look magnificent when you fight.” The words came out softly, almost inaudibly, as cool fingers carded through my hair. “That, at least, is something I can agree with Ichimaru Gin on.”

Soft lips brushed my forehead, as light as the touch of a feather. “Now rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today, and if you'd like to make me happy, please leave behind a kudos or a comment :)


	22. Chapter 22

“Yukimura, stop being ridiculous,” Iemura said exasperatedly. I sulked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Me being here is ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine _,_ and you know it, Iemura-senpai,” I protested grumpily. “I should be in school right now, anyway. Aren’t you the one who’s always nagging me about taking my education more seriously?”

“Your health comes first. And after what happened yesterday, I’d think that you’d want to take a break--” 

“I’m fully recovered from that, even Unohana-taicho said so--” 

“—taicho also said that she wanted to keep you here for observation, which means _no trying to discharge yourself--”_       

“I don’t see why you’re glaring so disapprovingly at me, it’s not like it worked anyway. Who came up with that bullshit rule in the first place? I’m a Fourth Division member in all but name, I should have the authority to discharge any patients I see fit, including myself,” I grumbled, glaring at the floor.

“Well you only have yourself to blame for that. Up until you tried to sneak out of here a month ago after nearly blowing yourself up _,_ there was no need for such a rule! But thanks to you, Unohana-taicho announced that patients are no longer allowed to discharge themselves, Fourth Division member or not,” Iemura said crossly.

“So I may have been a bit…rash in my actions then, but this is different! There’s seriously nothing wrong with me, and besides, I have a history paper on the rebellion of 1574 due today!” I protested, waving around the piece of paper as evidence. Iemura snatched it out of my hand.

“‘There was a lot of fighting. People died. We won,’” Iemura recited sardonically, one hand adjusting his glasses. “What a stunning piece of literary accomplishment. I’m sure your teachers will be amazed.” Why was he only this sarcastic around _me?_

“It’s not like I’m _wrong._ ” When Iemura continued to stare at me with an unimpressed expression, I flushed. “Okay, so I may have been short on time. It’s not my fault my mission took so much longer than expected.”

 The fact that I’d passed out shortly afterwards probably didn’t help. I’d woken up just long enough later to receive a reiatsu transfusion, take a quick shower, break the world record for ‘most ramen eaten in five minutes’, and convince Byakuya that _yes I was fine go home and get some sleep_ before conking out again.

“I don’t see why you’re making such a big fuss about this. For god’s sake, you’re almost as bad as an Eleventh Division member,” Iemura said irately. I bristled in offense.

“Because staying here is pointless! It’s one thing to rest when you’re injured, but I’m _not._ And I’ve spent too much time--” I cut myself off. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than to spend it wasting away in a hospital bed, Iemura-senpai.”

“‘Wasting away in a hospital bed?’ That’s a bit of an exaggeration for taking a day off, don’t you think Yukimura-san?” A familiar voice asked mildly from the doorway.

I twitched, startled, and turned to see Unohana looking at me with one eyebrow raised (and someday, I _would_ figure out how she managed to mask her reiatsu to this extent).

“Taicho--” Iemura bowed, simultaneously shoving me backwards into the bed when I tried to stand up. “I was just--”

“—detailing to Yukimura-san why she should keep her escape attempts to a minimum. I heard,” Unohana said, wry humor edging her voice. I flushed bright red. “Thank you, Iemura-kun. I’ll take it from here.”

She waited until Iemura left the room before sitting down next to my bed. I watched as Unohana’s hands lit up with a familiar green glow before the tingling feeling of a reiatsu scan swept through me. She hummed approvingly before leaning back.

“How are you feeling, Yukimura-san?” Unohana asked.

“Pretty good. There’s no pain or anything. I just feel…normal,” I answered quietly. “To be honest, it feels like I was never injured in the first place.”

“Well, the diagnostic scans confirm that,” Unohana mused thoughtfully. “You’ve healed…remarkably well, all things considered. In fact, had it not been for this--” I stiffened as she lifted up my gown, revealing a spindly, almost star-shaped mark (the shape of a hollow’s claw) that spanned my navel. “—I wouldn’t have guessed that you were hurt at all.”

I swallowed, skimming the whitish, almost silvery scar with my fingertips…had it not been a reminder that I’d almost died, I would have called it pretty. That had been the only wound to leave a physical reminder. I’d thought it strange at first, considering the fact that the other injuries had vanished completely, but…well, the other injuries hadn’t been potentially fatal either.

_A sign that you fought,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa had said to me, when I’d first seen the scar in the shower last night. _A sign that you survived._

“I assume your shikai ability had something to do with that?” Unohana asked after a long moment of silence. I twitched in surprise before smiling resignedly.

“That obvious?” I asked wryly. It wasn’t like I wanted to _hide_ the fact that I’d activated my shikai, but being able to choose to tell people without them sensing it first would’ve been nice.

“Only to those who know what to look for,” Unohana smiled. “It’s more obvious now that your reiatsu isn’t depleted, but even so it’s a subtle change—most people will only notice if they’re actively looking for it.” She paused. “If you don’t mind me asking…what is your zanpakuto’s name?”

I closed my eyes, turning my attention to the comforting presence in the back of my head, the warm affection and quiet support there. “Tenshi no Tsubasa,” I breathed out softly. “Her name is Tenshi no Tsubasa.” I paused for a minute. “She…well, I guess you could say she enhances my own skills. Her flames, they—they heal me almost instantaneously when I get hurt. Even when the injury should be fatal.” _Like offering me another chance at life,_ I thought wryly. A rebirth.

“An interesting ability,” Unohana said, dark eyes thoughtful. “It’s the first time I’ve come across a zanpakuto that affects its own wielder instead of its opponents. Still…I must say, it suits you well Hisana.”

“Thank you,” I said a bit shyly. “I’m very fortunate to have Tenshi no Tsubasa as a partner.”

“Yes, you are. After all, had your shikai ability been something different…” Unohana’s expression didn’t change, but for some reason, all of my self-preservation instincts started going off right about then.

“Anyway, you said that I had healed completely, which means that I can be discharged, right?” I asked a bit too abruptly, hoping against hope that I’d be able to make my escape. I didn’t know why Unohana was currently radiating waves of displeasure, but I really didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, I think I’ll keep you here for just a little while longer,” Unohana said softly. My heart sank. “You see, I just received the most _fascinating_ mission report from Naito Jin of the Fifth Division.” I gulped, feeling dread pool in my stomach as Unohana smiled gently at me—a stark contrast to the way her aura darkened ominously. “I think you and I need to have a long-overdue talk about why making such reckless decisions in battle, good intentions or not, is…sorely inadvisable. Don’t you, Hisana?”

 

* * *

 

“You do know that the door exists for a reason, don’t you?” Otoribashi asked without looking up as I climbed through the window.

“But then I’d need to go past Iba-fukutaicho and she scares me,” I admitted without a hint of shame. “I bet you 500 kan that her zanpakuto spirit is a dragon of some sort. You know I saw her giving a couple officers a dressing down last week? It was almost as bad as one of _Unohana-taicho’s_ lectures.” And I should know. I’d been the victim of two since coming to the Seireitei.

“Almost as scary as Unohana-taicho, huh? High praise,” Otoribashi chuckled, before glancing at me quizzically. “I’m surprised to see you here, actually. You’re normally busy around this time.” I shrugged.

“I went on a mission yesterday and there were a few…complications. Originally, Unohana-taicho wanted me to stay at the Fourth today, but I managed to convince her to let me go. I have the rest of the day off though—apparently I’m supposed to be taking it easy.”

 I barely restrained myself from shuddering as I recalled the lecture-from-hell I’d escaped from barely half an hour ago. All things considered, I’d probably have a harder time recovering from _that_ than the mission itself. Still, despite the dressing down of massive proportions I’d received, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my decision. Granted, if Tenshi no Tsubasa’s ability wasn’t so focused on healing, I…well, no use dwelling on what could have happened. When it came down to it, I survived, Tsutsui survived, and that was all that mattered, right?

 Taking in the piles upon piles of paperwork on Otoribashi’s desk (I never, _ever_ wanted to become a captain. For that matter, judging by how busy Kaien and Byakuya were at times, I didn’t want to become a lieutenant either. Actually, a low-pressure, lower-seated position sounded rather nice), I added, “Am I bothering you? I can leave, if you want.”

“I’m a bit busy now, but you’re welcome to the training room down the hall, if you want to practice. I just have some paperwork to finish up, but I’ll join you later,” Otoribashi said with a faint smile. I beamed at him.

“Will do. Thanks, Otoribashi-taicho. You’re the best.”

 

* * *

 

I plucked the D string, carefully testing its intonation. It was a bit flat. Grimacing, I gripped one of the pegs and turned it counterclockwise.

Honestly, after the first time I came here, I wasn’t planning on returning. How was I supposed to explain my skills in this area? I mean sure, I’d dabbled in a bit of Oriental music during my life as Christina, but for the most part, I was classically trained and that was bound to come out eventually. It was bad enough that Otoribashi knew that I was familiar with the violin—despite his reassurances that I was welcome back anytime, for me to return would be nothing short of foolish. Reckless. Stupid. So after that first day, I’d resolved not to come back.

That resolve had lasted all of a week. And when I’d shown up at his door, I hadn’t even needed to say anything; Otoribashi had taken one look at my face before he’d wordlessly handed me his violin. He’d directed me to this very room—a soundproofed room set aside for exactly this purpose—before leaving, so that I was by myself. Just me, a bow, a violin, and several decades’ worth of memories.

For a moment, I’d just stood there, silent, staring at the violin. Then I’d picked up the bow with shaking fingers, and I began to _play._ Not anything complicated, at first—just scales, both major and minor. One note after another, as I focused on making each note as full as I could, familiarizing myself with the instrument, making sure that I was in tune, carefully shifting my hand and making my way through half-forgotten positions, adding vibrato to enrich the sound. After a while—I didn’t know how long—I’d started experimenting with rhythms ( _dotted quarter note-eighth note, sixteenth notes)_ and playing around with bowing styles ( _legato, detache, spiccato)_ before moving onto arpeggios, double-stops and octaves. By the time I stopped, the first rays of sunlight were appearing in the east, the skin under my chin was rubbed raw, my arms _ached,_ and painful blisters had formed on my fingertips.

_Last time,_ I’d promised myself afterwards. _This is the last time. You’re not Christina anymore. Let her go._

I was back three days later. And again four days after that. And again another three days after that, until it became a biweekly thing.

The thing was, the more I played, the more I remembered…and the harder it became to stop. And after a while, I just stopped trying (it didn’t help that Otoribashi never asked, never pushed for answers even though he _must_ have been curious—it didn’t seem to matter to him _how_ I’d learned to play, just that I _did)._

Placing the violin under my chin, I warmed up with an old Scottish air that had been one of Mom’s favorites—I remembered always playing it on her birthday. It had taken _weeks_ for me to finally remember all the notes. And in retrospect—

_You had something to do with that, didn’t you?_ I asked Tenshi no Tsubasa as music—sweet and sad—began to fill the room. _You…I remember you singing, the night before I finally figured it out. I mean, I didn’t realize it was you at the time, but looking back…_

_The song was always in your memory,_ she replied. _You just needed some help recalling it._

_Thank you,_ I said, after a moment of thought. _For your help. Music…means a lot to me._

_Of course it does,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa stated, as if this should be obvious. _Phoenixes are creatures of song, after all._

* * *

 

“I see you’ve been busy,” Otoribashi’s amused voice came from behind me. “Rooting through my private collection now, are you?”

“You did give me permission to use anything in this room,” I said distractedly, flipping through a pile of sheet music. Mozart, Bach, Vivaldi…a myriad of classical pieces, all arranged by time period. “Where did you even _get_ all this?”

“I do occasionally pick up things from trips to the living world. One of the many perks of being a captain—I mean, technically I’m not _supposed_ to travel there for leisure, but…” He shrugged.

“No one’s going to say anything if you linger behind for a few extra days. And if you just happen to use that time to travel around—well, it’s only good form for a captain to gather additional intel on the state of the living world, isn’t it?” I finished dryly.

“Exactly. See, _you_ get it,” he said approvingly before eying me thoughtfully. “I’ll have to see if I can convince Unohana-taicho to let you accompany me someday. I have another violin at home that I can lend you for now, but that’s a short term solution at best. We really need to get you one of your own, Yukimura-kun.”

“Yeah? Finally get tired of me kidnapping your instrument all the time?” I asked with a faint smile.

Otoribashi snorted. “If I was, I’d only have myself to blame. Encouraging you to keep coming over when you were still a skittish, nervous, wide-eyed little thing—I don’t know what I was thinking,” he teased lightly, shaking his head.

“And now you can’t get rid of me,” I grinned cheekily. “Can you blame me though? Your violin is lovely.” My voice took on a dreamy quality. “Such a nice sound…so clear and bright. I love it.”

“I can tell,” he laughed. “Every time you come over, you end up playing for hours. I’m pretty sure that mark under your chin is permanent now.”

“Ah,” I said sheepishly, fingering the rough, almost bruise-like patch of skin on my neck from where the violin had dug into it. “Probably.”

“You should be able to heal it, shouldn’t you?” Otoribashi asked curiously. “You healed the blisters on your fingers in under a minute.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” I hesitated for a moment before adding. “My…my teacher—the one who taught me to play—she once said that it was kind of like…a love mark from your instrument. Something left over from hours of practice—a sign of your devotion to your violin, you know? And that I should be proud of it.” I looked down, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“A love mark. I like that,” Otoribashi chuckled, glancing at me casually. “She sounds like an interesting woman.”

I huffed a breath of laughter, smiling wistfully as a rush of nostalgia rose within me. “She was insane. She had like five cats, and played like twenty instruments, and was always smoking tons of incense because she said the smell ‘inspired her artistically’ and she pushed me harder than anyone else in my life. Always used to say something about how talent could only take me two percent of the way—the rest was all blood, sweat, and tears.” I swallowed a lump in my throat, stroking the aged-looking violin gently. Now that I’d started talking, I was finding it difficult to stop—the words tumbling out almost without my consent as Otoribashi listened patiently. 

“Music was the love of her life, you know? She never married. Insisted that the only thing she needed in her life was her art, and that an instrument could satisfy her more than a man could any day. ‘Treat an instrument like a lover and it will sing for you,’” I recited distantly, letting out a hoarse laugh before falling silent for a moment. “You know, one of the last things she ever told me was to never give up on music.” 

“And you didn’t. The first time you came into my office, you told me that you hadn’t played in a very long time—well, that’s hardly the same as _giving up_ on music, is it? As far as I’m concerned, you just took a break from it.” Otoribashi said, smiling gently. He leaned down so that he was eye-level with me, placing one hand on my shoulder. “Yukimura-kun, the way you looked at that violin when you first walked in…believe me when I say that it wasn’t the look of someone who had ever truly let go of it.”

* * *

 

“What do you mean, ‘First Class’?” I asked, staring at the chief instructor of Class 1 in bewilderment. For once, Matsushita seemed to be of the same mind as me.

“Onabara-san, I really must protest. Yukimura is only rank 35 at the moment; she has dropped by over ten ranks since her time here. To promote her to the First Class when she has done nothing to deserve it would be unseemly,” he said. Okay, that was a bit unfair—I was doing fairly well in my classes. It was just, for every kido class I missed, my class standing continued to suffer.

“Oh? ‘Nothing to deserve it’? Is it not protocol that when a student has activated their shikai, they are automatically put into the First Class, no matter their current rank, and are also offered the opportunity for early graduation?” Onabara asked sharply. I abruptly began choking. 

“Shikai? There’s no way that she--” Matsushita began, sputtering indignantly.

“I was made aware of this by Unohana-taicho herself,” Onabara said, smiling thinly. “Are you calling the Captain of the Fourth a liar?” As Matsushita fell silent, he gave me an approving nod. “By the way, congratulations on activating your shikai, Yukimura-san. Not many can claim to have achieved that feat so early on in their career.”

“Th-thank you, Onabara-sensei,” I said a bit shakily. “But, um…I’d actually rather stay in the Second Class. At least until the end of the semester.” Both Matsushita and Onabara stared at me.

“I suppose the choice is up to you,” Onabara said slowly. “But may I ask why? If you are concerned about your internship, I assure you, we can arrange your schedule so that you are able to continue.”

“That’s not it,” I said, feeling a bit frustrated. “The First Class is held to a standard above everyone else. They are required to train far more than the other classes, and excel in all areas. Everyone looks up to them, and normally I’d be honored—I _am_ honored—that you’ve offered me a place there, but I just don’t think I’d be able to do it justice right now. Matsushita-sensei is right--” Matsushita gave me a startled look. “—I’m barely keeping up with my schoolwork as it is. I don’t think I’d be able to handle being in the First Class at the moment.”

More like, there was no way I’d be able to balance the extra work that came with being in the First Class with experimenting with kido, researching Ukitake’s disease, working at the Fourth, relearning how to play violin, and spending time with my friends. And well…compared to any of those things, being in the First Class was _nothing._

“Are you sure, Yukimura-san?” Onabara asked, looking at me closely.

“Positive,” I said firmly. He let out a sigh, a resigned expression appearing on his features.

“Very well then. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura-kun, it’s nice to see you again. I wish it could have been under better circumstances, but…” Ukitake shrugged in a _what can you do_ fashion. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you that, Ukitake-taicho,” I said, taking in his pale, sweaty demeanor concernedly.

“Oh, it’ll pass. It always does,” he said, smiling. “Don’t worry about me, Yukimura-kun.”

“Doesn’t mean it gets any easier,” I murmured, setting a bowl of broth onto the table next to his bed.

An unreadable expression crossed Ukitake’s face at my words. He leaned forward in his bed, staring at me intently.

“Forgive me, Yukimura-kun,” he began quietly. “But I couldn’t help noticing--”

A commotion from outside the door interrupted him and I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. “Excuse me for one second, please.”

Sticking my head out into the corridor, I barely resisted the urge to sigh at the depressingly-familiar sight.

“I’m just sayin’, there was no salt in the soup! An’ barely any meat! How the hell are people supposed ta recover if they ain’t gettin’ enough protein? My vice-captain can cook better than this!” The man currently yelling at Tsukuda looked vaguely familiar. Probably Eleventh Division then.

“I-I’m sorry. W-we do have s-some chicken with r-rice available--”

“You’d better. It’s the least ya could do for us, after we go out fightin’ all day--”

I rolled my eyes, patience already lost. “Oi, shinigami-san. I know Tsukuda-san doesn’t specialize in combat, but even so, do you really want to mess with someone who knows twenty different ways to erase bloodstains and five different ways to cleanly dispose of a body?”

 He whirled around, eyes wide as he took in my identity. Ah yes. I remembered him now. Yachiru had dubbed him ‘Fish-eyes.’

“No? I didn’t think so,” I said mildly. “And if you have any complaints about the food, you can take them to Unohana-taicho directly. Her office is that way.”

Without waiting for him to respond, I closed the door behind me. “Sorry about that, Ukitake-taicho,” I said apologetically. He waved me off.

“You seemed to have things well in hand,” he said, voice lightly amused. “‘Five different ways to cleanly dispose of a body,’ huh?”

“There’s a high mortality rate for shinigami. Is it so surprising that a healer would need to know how to properly handle a corpse?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fair enough. Still, the way you phrased it…”

“What can I say? I’m an expert at making ordinary life skills sound threatening,” I said, one side of my lips quirking up. “Keeps things interesting.”

Ukitake let out a startled laugh that quickly degenerated a series of coughs as he hunched over, one hand covering his mouth. I hurried to his side, placing my hands on his back and commanding my reiatsu to relax his muscles and reduce some of the inflammation in his airways. After a while, his coughs subsided and he sat up, lips stained red.

“I’m fine, really,” he said, as I wordlessly handed him a handkerchief. “It looks worse than it actually is.”

“If you say so,” I said, keeping my tone carefully even. Even from my brief moments of contact, I could tell that there was an awful lot of scarring and bleeding in his lungs. Healing kido could only do so much to reduce scarring, after all, and given the fact that he’d probably been dealing with this for _centuries…_

The sound of the door opening broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see Unohana entering.

“Ukitake-taicho, I apologize for the wait.” She glanced towards me. “I see Hisana has been keeping you company.”

“Ah, yes. Yukimura-kun is always a delight to have around—I’ve found that she has a talent for ‘keeping things interesting,’” he said warmly.

“I do my best,” I laughed before standing up. “I hope you feel better soon, Ukitake-taicho.”

_I promise to do everything I can to make that wish a reality._

 

* * *

 

“Well? What did you want to see me for?” Unohana asked, looking at me expectantly. I avoided her eyes, staring down at my teacup. I’d spent all last night planning out my words—fat lot of good that did me now. I’d somehow managed to forget my entire speech in the span of time it’d taken me to sit down.

When I still didn’t say anything, Unohana sighed. “Does this have something to do with the fact that you’ve been sneaking off with Ukitake-taicho’s medical records for the past few weeks?” She asked wryly. My head shot up as I stared at her with wide eyes. A hint of pity entered her expression.

“Did you truly think that I didn’t know?” Unohana asked. I gulped, swallowing heavily.

“I—I can explain,” I stuttered out.

“No need; I think I know you well enough by this point to guess your motives. It’s the reason why I didn’t confront you about this until now.” She eyed me thoughtfully. “In all my time here, I have never come across anything quite like his condition…granted, diseases of any kind are rare here in the afterlife, especially among those with high reiatsu. Still, you have spent a decent amount of time in the Rukongai; it’s possible that you’ve come across, or heard of things that I have not. So why don’t you tell me what you’ve come up with so far.”

“I…I’m not quite sure where to start,” I admitted, twisting my fingers together. Unohana smiled gently at me.

“As cliché as this may sound, I’ve found that the beginning is usually a good place,” she said, not unkindly. “Don’t be shy—you wouldn’t have come to me if you didn’t think you had anything worthwhile to say.”

Well, now that I had learned my lesson about trying to hide things from Unohana, I put my notebook on the table and took a deep breath. Here went nothing.

“The…well, the first thing that came to mind when confronted with his disease was a lung infection of some sort—you know, bronchitis or tuberculosis. It certainly would explain the chronic cough, and the bleeding in the lungs. But the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. For one thing, he’s not at all contagious. For another, you’ve mentioned that infection is practically unheard of in those of high spiritual energy?” I glanced hesitantly at Unohana-taicho.

“Correct,” Unohana confirmed. “Every person has the same barrier defenses to prevent pathogens from entering the body—skin, mucus, body secretions, etc., but shinigami have an additional defense. That is, they have a layer of reiatsu coating the body.”

“And the thicker the reiatsu, the less likely a cut or wound will become infected,” I murmured.

Unohana nodded. “In addition, those with higher reiryoku have healthier cells and a quicker immune response. That’s why it’s so rare to see diseases that last more than a couple of days in mature shinigami.”

“Right. So I decided that the chances of his disease being caused solely by some type of bacteria or virus were pretty small. That still left the possibility of Ukitake-taicho being particularly susceptible to a specific kind of microbe for some reason, which would explain why—assuming that an infectious disease is part of the reason for his condition—it affects him and no one else. My next thought was a genetic disorder of some sort,” I said, scanning through my notes.

“No one else in his family has ever displayed any signs of it,” Unohana pointed out. “Whatever he has, it is not hereditary.”

“Still, a new mutation could have popped up. The chances are extremely small, but it’s certainly possible. A defect in a gene could lead to production of a faulty protein or haploinsufficiency in some essential protein. It doesn’t even have to be in a gene that’s strictly related to lung function—for example, if he had an abnormal form of the gene that’s responsible for mucus production, it could lead to mucus buildup in the lungs, which would clog the airways and lungs and make him more susceptible to ordinary bacterial infections. Obviously that’s not the case—there’s been no signs of any abnormal mucus buildup. However, the point still stands that any number of biochemical pathways could have been affected,” I said, thinking out loud. It almost felt like I was in med school again, like I’d just been handed a test in which I received a list of symptoms and was told to find an answer to them.

“The primary evidence against this theory, of course, is the fact that his condition wasn’t present at birth. While late-onset mutagenic disorders _do_ exist, usually they don’t present themselves until well into adulthood. If it _was_ a genetic disorder however, my best guess would be some kind of immune deficiency disease, but I’d need to run some more tests,” I said thoughtfully. Take the HIV virus for example—it sometimes took _years_ to really manifest. It was certainly plausible that Ukitake had something similar.

“That’s…an interesting possibility. Something that affects white blood cells?” Unohana asked.

“Perhaps. Then again, if we’re looking at it from that angle, we have to consider the other possibility—that he has an _overactive_ immune system instead of a deficient one,” I said. “We know that white blood cells attack pathogens and other foreign microbes, although the exact mechanism is unknown--” A little white lie never hurt anyone. “—but there has to be something that prevents them from attacking the body’s own cells, right? Something that causes our own immune system to recognize self from non-self.”

“But if something were to go wrong there...if his immune system was no longer able to distinguish his own cells from outside pathogens…” Unohana murmured before glancing up at me with a sharp look. “You’ve come across something like this before?”

“Not…this exactly. But I have come across cases where a body’s immune system attacks healthy cells, causing damage to one or more types of tissue,” I admitted. Maybe not in this lifetime, but I had. “I don’t know what triggers it in the first place—whether it’s genetics, or toxins in the environment, or an infection—but I suppose that isn’t really relevant right now.”

And the thing about an autoimmune disorder was that it could explain _so many things._ In the beginning, I’d considered cancer as a possibility—how could I not?—before dismissing it after careful deliberation. Accelerated healing rate or not, he’d be dead by now if that was the case. Cancer was your own body killing itself, and to treat it, you had to poison your own body…which went against everything about healing kido I’d learned from Iemura-senpai.

It _had_ opened up a new line of thought, however. If healing kido could treat the symptoms but not the cause…well, the reason healing kido wouldn’t be effective against cancer was because to kill cancer, you had to fight against the patient’s own body. If you applied that line of reasoning to an autoimmune disorder—well, one of the primary ways of treating an autoimmune disorder was to fight against the patient’s own immune system. Something that just _wasn’t done_ in the field of healing kido. But you _could_ heal the damage caused by the disease with healing kido.

To an extent, of course. You could perform miracles using healing kido, but to _completely_ eliminate scarring in the lungs would be practically impossible. And given the fact that Ukitake had been sick for so long _…_ well, healing kido could keep him alive, but it wouldn’t be enough to reverse the damage completely.

“And what would you need to confirm this one way or the other?” Unohana asked quietly. I deflated slightly.

“Well—to begin with, I’d need to run a couple blood tests to compare Ukitake-taicho’s blood with a healthy person’s. Which means that I’d need a couple of relatively-powerful microscopes,” I said uncertainly. Goddamn it, life was so much easier when I could just send a vial of blood to a lab to get it analyzed.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I believe that the Twelfth Division has the tools that you require—I’ll write a note to Urahara-taicho to request permission for you to use the equipment in Research and Development sometime in the coming month. Is that all?”

“Yes, taicho,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

“Then there’s one last thing I’d like to speak to you about today.” Unohana leaned forward to stare at me intently. “I wasn’t going to bring this subject up so soon, but in light of our recent conversation…” Her voice trailed off and I stiffened as piercing cobalt eyes met mine. “From the moment we met, the extent of your medical knowledge has…puzzled me extensively. I confess, I have spent more time than I care to admit trying to ascertain how, exactly, you came to learn so much.” I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I--” I stammered, my tongue suddenly feeling heavy and clumsy.

 I suppose I’d known that this would happen someday. After all, my entire way of healing revolved around controlling the human body, down to a micro-level, and in order to do that, I needed to know how it worked. It wasn’t like I could hide that. But it must have seemed completely illogical from an outside perspective, considering the fact that I’d had no formal schooling and came from one of the most lawless, poverty-stricken areas of the afterlife. Of course I would seem like something of an anomaly; no matter how you thought about it, my knowledge didn’t make _sense_.

However, after several months during which Unohana didn’t seem inclined to mention it, I’d allowed myself to relax and hope that she wouldn’t bring the subject up. In retrospect, that had been rather foolish of me.

“Relax. I won’t pry,” Unohana said gently, sensing my inner panic as I stared at her with wide eyes. “If nothing else, I believe that you have good intentions and that’s enough for now. But Hisana, I do hope that someday, you’ll trust me enough to confide in me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.

“Don’t be.” Unohana’s voice was impossibly patient. “I understand that you’re not ready and that’s okay. But I want you to know that whenever you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

 

* * *

 

“So I’m curious. What’s it like being a zanpakuto spirit?” I asked, staring up at the sky with my hands folded behind my head. Tenshi no Tsubasa paused in the midst of grooming my hair (she insisted on doing so every time I visited; I had no idea how I’d ended up with such a mother hen for a zanpakuto spirit).

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I mean…do you see the world through my eyes? Do you feel what I feel?” I turned my head to look at her. “Is there some kind of…mirror thing that lets you see what’s happening outside?”

“I suppose that’s true. There is a…link between us that allows me to sense your emotions. It also allows us to communicate through thought and in this way I guess I…see the world through you. Why do you ask?”

“Because while I know you’re always _there,_ it’s not like we talk to each other 24/7. So I wanted to know what you do during the times that I’m not in here, and whether you interact with the outside world at all. I like spending time here—it’s really peaceful—but to do so all the time? It sounds dreadfully…boring,” I finished quietly. _Lonely._

Tenshi no Tsubasa’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to worry about me, little firebird. I don’t mind being here—as far as Soul Worlds go, yours is beautiful—and no one could accuse your life of being boring.”

“Yeah, but as much as you’re a part of my life, it’s still _my_ life, not yours,” I pointed out. “So I want to know—what do you like doing? What do you do for fun? Come on; there has to be _something_ you enjoy.”

“Why so interested?” She asked lightly. I shrugged.

“Is it so strange that I want to make you happy?” I asked lightly.

“I’m here to protect you and support you, to give you a push when you require it. You don’t need to go out of your way to--”

“Look,” I cut her off. “Last week, you put your faith in me and trusted that I wouldn’t abuse your powers. I mean, if you wanted to, you could have gone all of eternity without telling me your name, and it’d be your prerogative. But instead, you chose to become my partner and that’s…” _Humbling,_ I didn’t say out loud.

 Alright sure, it _could’ve_ been just because she wanted to avoid near-certain death, but I doubted it. Tenshi no Tsubasa had an odd sort of pride; the type that would prevent her from giving her abilities to a wielder she didn’t respect. And cause her to refuse to answer a simple question about what she enjoyed because she didn’t want to make herself a ‘burden.’

“Having a shikai…that’s a privilege, not a right,” I continued seriously. “You told me your name, gave me your trust, and I want to treat that gift with the gratitude it deserves.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that! I’ve told you before, you _earned_ it.” Gold eyes stared earnestly at me. “After you realized what I was, you stopped asking for my name, told me to wait until I was ready. Even on the brink of death, you refused to demand my name, or try to coerce me in any way…you were so used to doing everything yourself, the thought of asking for help didn’t even occur to you,” she said wistfully. “Telling you my name, giving you my power, fighting with you…all of that was my choice. I offered you my aid freely.”

I blinked, throat suddenly feeling a bit tight. “Fine then. If you won’t accept that reason, then how about this? You’re a part of my soul, so if you’re happy and we get along, that equals better mental health for me too, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it w--”

“Right,” I interrupted. “And because that’s a win/win situation for both of us, I’m going to do my best to make sure you don’t die of boredom here or something. Don’t argue; I’m pretty sure that I can out-stubborn you. Now answer me—what do you like to do?” Tenshi no Tsubasa was silent for a long moment.

“I like it when you come and spend time with me,” she said softly. “When you seek me out just to talk to me.” The need to be _needed…_ well, I could certainly sympathize.

“I can do that,” I agreed. “Talking to you is awesome; it’s like having a diary that can talk back but about a thousand times better. Anything else?”

“I also enjoy…fighting. Maybe not so much fighting itself, but…the adrenaline, the thrill, how it pushes us to our limits—that, I enjoy.” The quiet happiness in her voice made me pause.

“Okay,” I said, abruptly sitting up. “Let’s do it.”

Tenshi no Tsubasa blinked, looking startled. “Just like that?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to get more experience using my shikai anyway—there’s only so much I can do without an opponent—and it’s after dinner so everyone should be free now. Is there someone in particular you wanted to spar with? I’m fine with pretty much anyone.” A thought struck me and I hastily added, “Except for Zaraki Kenpachi. If you say Zaraki Kenpachi, we’re gonna have a difference of opinion. And since I generally try to avoid Ichimaru at all costs, I’d also really, really prefer it if you didn’t say him either.”

Tenshi no Tsubasa huffed. “Relax. I am not so reckless,” she said dryly, nipping at my cheek lightly in reprimand.

“Yeah, yeah. Just making sure,” I grinned, stroking her feathers with one hand. She hummed in contentment, leaning into my touch. “Now back to my original question—do you have anyone in mind?” There was another long pause.

“Kuchiki Byakuya,” she said finally. I paused, surprised.

“Byakuya? I mean, that shouldn’t be a problem, but can I ask why?”

“Is it really so surprising? He is one of your closest friends, and yet, you’ve never engaged in a serious spar.”

 Which was true enough; whenever I wanted advice on how to improve my swordplay, I usually went to Kaien. I’d considered going to Byakuya for help, but it felt…strange, asking Byakuya to tutor me. Probably because despite the fact that I was an Academy student and he was a lieutenant, we’d always interacted more or less as equals. To ask him to take on a mentor type of role would be…well, I felt uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Still, a simple spar should be okay. It wasn’t like I’d be asking him to _teach_ me, or anything like that—merely help me become more comfortable with my shikai.

“Besides,” Tenshi no Tsubasa continued, a strange gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to test that boy for a while now. A spar should…give ample time for him to prove his worth.”

 

* * *

 

_The art of climbing through windows,_ I thought to myself as I tumbled into Byakuya’s office, _is drastically underrated._

“Hisana?” Byakuya looked up in surprise at my entrance. He set his pen down. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t kill yourself via paperwork,” I answered, walking over and loosely draping myself against his back, resting my chin on his shoulder.  My brow furrowed as I noticed the stiffness in his hand and I absently reached down to grab it. A touch of healing reiatsu was enough to relax most of his muscles, and he murmured a word of thanks.

“Ugh. Are you this busy every day?” I said in disgust, making a face at the foot-tall pile of paperwork in front of him.

“The price of responsibility, I’m afraid,” he said wryly.

“Remind me to never get promoted,” I muttered.

Byakuya raised an eyebrow. “Is the idea of a promotion truly so repulsive to you? You told me that you turned down a place in the First Class. I’m sure the instructors were scandalized.”

“It’s not that I’m not _ambitious._ It’s just that what I want doesn’t always align with what other people want,” I explained.

“And what _do_ you want, Hisana?” Byakuya asked, gray eyes looking at me intently. This close, I could see every detail of face, feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. Tilting my head to the side (I refused to acknowledge it as a ploy to put some distance between us), I considered his words.

“Hmm…well, I entered the Seireitei with two goals. To improve my healing skills, and to get strong enough to protect my precious people. And well, as long as I achieve that, what do ranks matter?” I smiled. “And after that…I want to become the wise grandma-like figure who everyone knows, and is kind of terrifying in a kickass grumpy way, who delivers long-winded lectures, and bakes cookies for people and shares stories about the ‘good old days’ and yells at kids to get off her lawn and hits annoying Eleventh Division members with her broom. Or frying pan, I’m not picky.”

“You want to become the stereotypical cranky old person,” Byakuya huffed a laugh. “Of all the things…”

I tightened my arms around him for a moment. “I want the opportunity to grow old,” I said quietly, almost inaudibly. It was strange how people tended to overlook the small things, the ‘normal’ parts of life…up until the moment they were taken away. As Christina, I’d been in no hurry to travel the world, to get married, settle down, have children—after all, I had my whole life ahead of me, didn’t I?

So many things I’d taken for granted. Time, most of all.

“Hisana, you--” Byakuya breathed, looking at a loss for words. Deciding that things had gotten too serious, I released him and straightened up, plastering a bright smile over my face.

“But enough about that. Right now, what I want is for you to come spar with me,” I said, looking at him expectantly.

“Spar?” He asked, looking taken aback.

“Uh-huh. I need to get used to my shikai and in order to do that, I need an opponent,” I explained.

“Just…why now? It’s getting to be fairly late,” Byakuya said, glancing outside.

“Like you can say anything about that. If I hadn’t come, you’d have just spent the next four hours working on paperwork that probably isn’t even due until two weeks later,” I said pointedly. Judging by the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks, I wasn’t too far off. “Look, it isn’t good for you to stay cooped up inside all day. Besides, Tenshi no Tsubasa wants to fight you and I’ve just realized that the only person who’s seen my shikai so far is Ichimaru Gin which is…really, really sad, now that I think about it.”

“I—I don’t want--” Byakuya stammered, looking adorably flustered.

“To hurt me?” My voice softened. “Believe me, Byakuya, you don’t have to worry about that.” When he still looked hesitant, I resisted the urge to sigh. Time to bring out the big guns, then.

“Please, Byakuya?” I asked imploringly, widening my eyes and staring up at him pleadingly. When he didn’t answer—actually, he looked frozen in place—I twisted my hands together nervously, slipped a small, painfully-hopeful smile onto my face, and tucked my chin in a fraction of an inch. I lowered my eyes shyly for a moment, focused on not blinking, and when I glanced up again, I could feel my eyes glistening with unshed moisture. “I—I mean, it’s okay if you don’t…if you don’t want to. I just wanted _you_ to be the first person…well, the first person I willingly showed my shikai to, but--”

“No, of course it’s all right. I’d love to spar with you, Hisana,” Byakuya said, voice oddly rough. I beamed at him, all traces of uncertainty vanishing from my expression.

“I knew you’d come around,” I said smugly. Realization dawned on Byakuya’s face and he glared at me.

“Yukimura Hisana, you are a dangerous, dangerous girl, you know that?” He accused. “Giving me that… _look_ was completely unfair. As well as unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “It got you to agree, didn’t it?” I usually only pulled out the pleading, kicked-puppy look around Kazuki and Kaori (and occasionally Mitsuo), so I was rather pleased it seemed to work just as well on Byakuya.

“I would have given in anyway. I’ve found that when it comes to you, I do not possess the willpower to deny you anything that you request.” One side of his lips quirked up at my poleaxed expression. “Anything you want, Hisana, you need only ask.”

My heart skipped a beat and I cleared my throat awkwardly, looking away. “You…you shouldn’t say things like that.”

_The things I want from you, I shouldn’t have,_ I thought wistfully. I thought that I’d been doing a fairly good job of resisting temptation, all things considered, but…well, Byakuya certainly wasn’t making it any easier on me.

“Why not?” Byakuya countered, voice impossibly gentle. I glanced back up at him hesitantly, and the earnestness in his eyes took my breath away. “I would do anything— _anything_ —to make you happy. You must know that.”

 

* * *

 

Interlude

Hisana was quiet as they walked towards one of the more distant training grounds, occasionally sending him hesitant, almost wary glances as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his earlier words. By the time they reached training ground six (which was little more than a clearing in the middle of some woods) though, she seemed determined to put it out of her mind and was back to her normal, enthusiastic self.

“So I’ve never done this before—is there some type of protocol for this sort of thing?” Hisana asked, all but bouncing on her feet in excitement. It would have taken far more effort than he cared to expend to suppress his smile at her eagerness, and Byakuya didn’t even try. “Like are we supposed to just…spar normally for a few minutes first? Or can I go into shikai right away?”

“It’s up to you,” Byakuya answered. Inside his head, he felt Senbonzakura stirring in eagerness at the thought of the upcoming fight. He had to admit that the feeling wasn’t entirely unshared, even as trepidation ( _what if he hurt her by accident? It didn’t matter that she was more than capable of healing herself, just the_ thought _of causing her pain of any kind…)_ warred with anticipation inside of him.

 Hisana tilted her head to the side, expression growing distant as she seemed to have an internal debate with herself. Her eyes cleared a moment later, and she glanced up towards where the sun hung low in the sky.

“Well,” Hisana murmured, one side of her lips quirking up. She drew her zanpakuto and held it in front of her, grasping the hilt with both hands. “No sense in wasting time, I guess.”

Violet eyes gleamed, and Byakuya’s breath caught in his throat. “Rise, Tenshi no Tsubasa.”

 

* * *

 

_A force of nature._

_That’s what Hisana in her shikai was like_ , Byakuya thought to himself her reiatsu _soared_ (light and warmth and refreshing coolness all at once) and electric blue flames traveled down the length of her sword. Pupils dilated until only a thin ring of purple remained, and her cheeks flushed an enticing red. The expression on her face could only be described as one of utter rapture—her entire body seemed to _glow_ with life. Byakuya didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

As it was, he barely blocked the first blow because he was too busy staring at her.

“Pay attention,” Hisana scolded from behind their crossed blades. “Don’t get distracted.”

_How can I not?_ Byakuya wanted to ask. He had a hard enough time tearing his eyes from her on a normal basis, and in this state—

But it wasn’t like he could say that. An exasperated warning from Senbonzakura broke him out of his daze, and he lifted his sword almost on instinct to block the next few strikes. A touch of annoyance crossed Hisana’s face, and her next attack—nothing but a flash of silver and glowing blue, and when had she gotten this fast?—sliced through his sleeve, drawing a thin line of blood. He faltered, staring at her in shock.

“Come on, Byakuya. You can do better than this. Fight back,” she said, glaring at him. “Senbonzakura, if you can hear me, knock some sense into him, will you? I’m getting bored.”

_She’s right, you know,_ Senbonzakura murmured, once he’d gotten over his surprise at being addressed. _Right now, you’re telegraphing your movements so much, a child would be able to read them. I’m not telling you to go all out, Master, but what you’re doing right now is nothing short of insulting. To both of us._ His voice softened. _She told you that she can handle a few cuts and bruises, didn’t she? Then trust in her._

Byakuya swallowed, but nodded and slipped into a firmer stance. His next swing met hers in a loud clash of metal that sent sparks flying through the air, causing Hisana’s arms to shake under the strain. She blinked, startled, before a wide grin spread across her face.

“Better,” she said approvingly, before yelping as she barely dodged in time to avoid his follow up attack.

“Don’t get distracted,” he teased, feeling confident enough now to put a bit more force into his swings.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, charging towards him.

 

* * *

 

For all that Hisana had explained how her shikai sped up her healing rate drastically, Byakuya hadn’t really comprehended the extent of her ability until the first time he’d landed a blow on her. He’d swung down a little too hard, a little too quickly—and no matter how much Hisana’s speed and strength had increased, there were holes in her technique, openings that any skilled swordsman could take advantage of—and she hadn’t quite managed to bring her blade up in time, resulting in Senbonzakura slicing deeply into her shoulder. He’d only just opened his mouth to apologize when blue fire flared up around the injured area, stitching torn flesh back together until not even a scar remained. Hisana took one look at his dumbfounded expression and smirked.

“I told you I healed fast, didn’t I?” She asked nonchalantly. “Now that we’ve established that I can take a bit of damage, can you stop holding back so much?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow at her challenging tone.

“Very well. You asked for it,” He replied, before vanishing behind Hisana in a burst of shunpo. She brought her sword up to parry his blow, ducked his follow up swing in an impressive display of reflexes, and retaliated with a thrust aimed at his hip which he easily blocked.

“That’s more like it,” Hisana laughed, breathless and delighted as she back-flipped out of the way of a kick aimed at her legs. He followed her, attacking with a flurry of strikes before she could fully recover. She blocked some and brushed off others, the thin lines of red that formed on her skin vanishing seconds later as they were erased by blue.

A turning kick to his knee caused Byakuya to stumble slightly and bought her the fraction of a second she needed to recover. A moment later he was catching another blow aimed at his shoulder, throwing it back and then pressing his advantage. Hisana danced out of the way, her movements light and graceful and agile, before ducking under his arm and swinging at his midriff. The tip of her blade cut through his uniform and he felt a familiar sting as the metal sliced thinly through skin, before he was flash-stepping out of the way, appearing behind her to bring the hilt of his sword down on the back of her head. She seemed to be expecting that though, and whirled around just in time to block his blow, their blades colliding with a screech of metal.

“Had enough?” Byakuya breathed, pressing down on her sword, and no matter how much stronger she was in this state, he was stronger still. As if to prove his point, her arms faltered, shaking slightly with the strain of keeping him back. She wouldn’t be able to hold this position for much longer.

“Most definitely not,” Hisana retorted. Blazing purple eyes met his—bright and exhilarated, filled with a kind of wild, unbridled joy—and not for the first time, Byakuya felt something in his chest ache at the sight of her. “Hadou #11: Tsuzuri Raiden!”

Byakuya’s eyes widened in shock as crackling lightning traveled up the length of her sword, and promptly wrenched himself away before it could reach him.

“Kido, hmm?” A slow grin spread over his face. “Well now, Hisana, this just means war.”

 

* * *

 

An indeterminable amount of time, and countless cuts and kido burns later (mostly on Hisana’s part, but Byakuya suffered a few too—he may have been fast, but Hisana was _creative_ , with a vicious streak that was frankly a little terrifying) and they were both breathing hard, sweating and exhilarated. 

_The thing about Hisana,_ Byakuya thought, dodging a bright yellow flare of energy before sending a Byakurai spell back. _Was that it didn’t matter that she wasn’t quite as fast, or strong. It didn’t matter that he had decades more experience, or that her skills couldn’t really compare to his, or that she was sometimes clumsy and reckless to the point of foolishness, because she just_ kept coming back, _learning from her mistakes and getting better_ _with each passing moment._

She really was like a force of nature—magnificent, awe-inspiring and…utterly unstoppable.

Of course, he was still holding back, still being careful, but at the same time, he was almost… _not_ being careful anymore? With every blow Hisana managed to block, every spell she dodged and hit she landed on him…every time they clashed blades and he could _sense_ the enjoyment that bordered on ecstasy behind her every move, her sheer delight in being _alive,_ Byakuya could feel himself relaxing more and more. Her excitement was infectious, encouraging him to let go and simply lose himself in the fight, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun in a spar. Still—

Byakuya eyed the faint trembling in Hisana’s hands with concern, the way her eyes burned almost feverishly bright. In a movement too fast for her to follow, he flash-stepped forward and twisted her hands behind her back with one hand, gently setting Senbonzakura against her throat with his other. She instantly stopped struggling.

“I believe this means I win,” Byakuya murmured playfully against her ear. “Surrender and I may have mercy.”

“Oh no. I’m terrified,” she deadpanned. “Please spare this poor, pitiful soul, valiant warrior. You have shown me the error of my ways.”

“Mm. I think I could be persuaded,” Byakuya said gently as Hisana deactivated her shikai and promptly slumped heavily against his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to better support her. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just suffering from a bit of reiatsu exhaustion. I lasted way longer this time though,” she said thoughtfully. “Then again, I didn’t get nearly as injured either…”

Byakuya stiffened at the reminder. Hisana hadn’t gone into specifics, but given the amount of blood on her clothing after that mission, and that she’d come back with her uniform practically in tatters, he could make an educated guess as to just _how_ hurt she’d gotten. Then there was the fact that she’d been almost suspiciously vague when it came to divulging any details, which by itself was…telling.

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted his thoughts, and Byakuya looked up in surprise to see his grandfather standing at the edge of the clearing. Just how long had he been watching, anyway?

“Impressive, Yukimura-kun. I was not aware that you had activated your shikai,” he said mildly. “I offer you my congratulations. You must be proud.”

Hisana straightened up before slipping into a formal bow. “Thank you, Kuchiki-taicho. I did so last week,” she said, sounding faintly pleased. “Tenshi no Tsubasa is the best partner I could have asked for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Byakuya’s grandfather said kindly. “A good relationship with one’s zanpakuto spirit is essential for any shinigami.” He then turned to Byakuya. “I admit, I was surprised to sense you out here, Byakuya. You are normally in your office around this time.”

“Ah,” Hisana said sheepishly. “That would be my fault, Kuchiki-taicho. You are correct that he would currently be in his office, diligently doing paperwork and being the very model of a good lieutenant, had I not kidnapped him earlier. Unfortunately, your grandson was guaranteed to be such a delightful sparring partner that I couldn’t resist.”

“It is hardly ‘kidnapping’ if the person in question is willing, Hisana,” Byakuya pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Very well. I see that my villain status has been demoted from ‘kidnapper’ to simply ‘being a bad influence.’ I suppose I shall have to be content with that,” she said, sighing dramatically in faux-disappointment.

“Yes, very bad. Forcing me to get fresh air and exercise—truly, you are a menace to society with your corrupting ways,” Byakuya teased.

“You flatter me.” Hisana grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with humor, and Byakuya’s heart skipped a beat.

_Master, I say this with all due respect,_ Senbonzakura said sardonically, _but you have got it bad._

_Shut up, you,_ Byakuya retorted sourly. Sometimes he thought that the sole purpose of a zanpakuto spirit was to provide unnecessary commentary on people’s lives. God knows he had to deal with it from Senbonzakura often enough.

“Yukimura-kun.” Byakuya looked up in surprise as his grandfather addressed Hisana with an odd note in his voice. “Could you provide us with a moment of privacy? I would like to have a word with my grandson.”

Hisana blinked, startled. “Of course, Kuchiki-taicho. I should be going back, anyway. It was a pleasure to see you again, sir.” She hesitated for a moment, before reaching up to lightly touch Byakuya’s arm. “I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he said warmly. “Now go back and rest. You’ve just expended a fair amount of energy.”

One side of her lips quirked up and she offered him a faint smile—small and secretive—before she turned and left in the direction of the Fourth Division barracks. Byakuya watched her disappear into the woods, feeling a sense of déjà vu at her departure. It almost reminded him of the first time they’d met—him, a stranger in an unfamiliar land, her, a girl who defied all expectations. He’d been intrigued by her even back then.  

His grandfather’s hand on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. “I admit,” he said quietly, voice gentle. “That until today, I had not put too much thought into the rumors. People will always talk, after all, and the truth has a tendency to become exaggerated. And you are still so young; I believed it a mere infatuation at most, nothing more. But now, after seeing you two together…” His voice trailed off. “You love her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Byakuya admitted softly. There was no denying that anymore. To be honest, he hadn’t been able to truly deny it for weeks now.

_Ain’t like she’s yours, after all._

Ichimaru Gin’s taunting words rang in his head, made all the more painful due to the truth they contained. No, Hisana wasn’t his. But _god,_ did Byakuya want her to be.

“Well,” Ginrei said thoughtfully. “This puts all those missions you requested to the outer districts of South Rukongai in a different light. Yukimura Hisana is from the 78th district, is she not?” There was a long pause. “How long, Byakuya?”

Byakuya cleared his throat. Well, if the secret was out… “Two years, more or less. But I _swear_ we never did anything inappropriate, jii-sama. The first time we met, she…she did me a large favor and after that, she’s been a dear friend to me, nothing more.”

“You never told me,” Ginrei said, a faint note of reprimand in his voice. Byakuya straightened up.  

“I owed her and so when the only thing she asked in return for her help was to keep her actions a secret, I agreed. Hisana didn’t want any undue attention on her, especially given her healing skills.” Not that it mattered now.

“So I have to ask…if she released you from your debt, why did you keep going back? Inuzuri is not exactly a convenient place to travel to, after all,” Ginrei pointed out. Byakuya paused.

“The first time…the first time was to make sure she was okay. If she was in trouble, I would have offered her a way out of there,” he said quietly. Maybe not in the Seireitei, but a decent place in the 1st district, at least. “And after that, she…I guess she provided an escape. I can’t explain it any more than that.”

The only person who’d ever looked at him and seen _just Byakuya,_ not his wealth, or rank, or family, or even his power. To be around someone who liked him solely for his company, who wasn’t intimidated by him in the slightest, was…addicting, to say the least.

In retrospect, he’d probably started falling for her from the moment she flicked him on the forehead, called him an overdramatic princess, and told him to cut the ‘scary-shinigami’ act. Trying to keep himself from loving her had been a lost cause from the start.

“You are serious about this then,” Ginrei said, looking at him intently.

“I am. I will have no one else,” Byakuya said firmly. He already knew that he wouldn’t give her up. The thought of explaining this to his grandmother, to the clan elders, to his _parents’ graves_ made him feel more than a little sick, but that was _nothing_ compared to sheer terror he felt at the thought of losing Hisana—of someday seeing her in the arms of some nameless man when she inevitably moved on.

Of course, if she refused him that was a different story, but Byakuya didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself for not even _trying._

Ginrei let out a heavy sigh. “The elders will be most displeased. They will not give their approval,” he warned. Byakuya’s jaw clenched.

“And you, jii-sama?” He held his breath. Byakuya honestly didn’t know what he’d do if his grandfather forbade him from seeing her. “What will your decision be?”

Ginrei studied him for a long moment. “If Yukimura Hisana is truly who you desire,” he said finally. “Then I will not…oppose your relationship. That is all I can promise for now.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude takes place around one week before the start of the chapter

Interlude

“You cannot _possibly_ be serious. A courtship?” Byakuya gritted his teeth as he watched his grandmother pace back and forth. “Byakuya, have you lost your mind? And you!” She whirled on his grandfather. “How can you condone this foolishness?”

Ginrei let out a tired sigh. “Masami, please be reasonable--”

“No! I warned you when the rumors started, when he brought her over to the compound, but you insisted that it was not your place to interfere with his friendships, and now you would let him humiliate our clan over a teenage infatuation? You have indulged him for far too long, Ginrei!”

“He is not a boy any longer, Masami,” Ginrei cut in sharply. “How do you expect him to take over leadership of our clan if you do not trust in him to make his own decisions?”

“Let him make his own decisions, yes, but it is also our duty to correct his mistakes!” She shot back. At this, Byakuya couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“She is not a mistake. I know what I’m doing, baa-sama,” Byakuya said, raising his head to meet her eyes.

“Stay out of this,” she snapped.

“No, let him speak. It is his future we’re discussing, after all,” Ginrei said sternly. Byakuya sent his grandfather a grateful look but before he could continue, Masami waved him off dismissively.

“He is blinded by his feelings, can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t some passing whim of mine, baa-sama. I won’t change my mind on this,” Byakuya said quietly. Masami glared at him.

“You would be so selfish as to risk our clan’s status for her?” She demanded. Byakuya flinched. “Think about your promise to your parents! Think about--”

“I believe that Byakuya could do far worse than Yukimura Hisana,” Ginrei interrupted, a hint of steel in his voice. Byakuya blinked, the tacit approval taking him off guard. Apparently his grandmother felt the same way because she faltered for a moment before continuing.

“I suppose she could make a suitable enough friend, but as the potential next Lady of the Kuchiki Clan? She is from _Inuzuri!_ She may as well be from a different universe! Do you not think that it would be cruel to her as well, bringing her into a world where she will never, ever belong? That will never accept her?” Byakuya swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry. Despite seeing the attempt at manipulation for what it was, despite knowing that his grandmother likely couldn’t care less for _Hisana’s_ well-being…well, it didn’t make her words any less effective. “Think, Byakuya. She lacks the proper education, upbringing, decorum…do you truly think that she could be happy with you?”

“I…I will not know until I try,” he murmured. “If anyone could adapt to our way of living, it would be Hisana.”

Masami’s eyes flashed. “Ah yes. I suppose you are referring to her friendship with the Shihouin and Shiba clan heads,” she sneered. “Reports state that she is close to several captains as well. Ambitious little girl, isn’t she? You may be too blind to see her actions for what they really are—a misguided attempt at seduction by some Rukongai whore—but I refuse to stand by and let her poison the Kuchiki name like th--”

There was a loud banging sound as Byakuya stood up abruptly, his reiatsu lashing out and knocking his chair over. For the first time, a trace of uncertainty entered his grandmother’s features.

“If it wasn’t for that ‘Rukongai whore’,” Byakuya said roughly, throat tight with fury, “you would be short both a grandnephew and a grandson. So for once in your life baa-sama, _hold your tongue.”_

There was a moment of shocked silence before Ginrei spoke up again.

“Byakuya, what did you mean by that?” He asked quietly.

Byakuya took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “The first time we met, she put her own well-being at risk by lying to save my life,” he said listlessly. “She didn’t even know my name and she…” His voice trailed off. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take kindly to anyone insulting her.”

“It seems that I’ve misjudged her somewhat,” Masami said softly. “However, I think you’re still being too hasty with this decision. A courtship is a large commitment, after all. Would you not consider waiting a few years? There are many other girls, ones who are more beautiful, more talented…” _More suitable. More respectable._

“I’m sure there are—but that’s the thing, isn’t it? They won’t be _her,”_ he said. Masami’s face hardened.

“She has bewitched you, robbed you of your reason.” Byakuya didn’t bother to deny it. He looked at his grandmother, at the anger in her dark eyes, the thin line of her mouth pressed tight with displeasure, and smiled almost sadly.

“I value your opinion baa-sama, but please don’t make me choose between Hisana and your approval. You won’t like my answer.”

 

Chapter 23

 

After the fifth time I messed up a simple answer, Grumpy-face sighed and turned to face me.

“Yukimura, is there something wrong? You seem rather distracted today.”

I swallowed, determinedly not looking at him. “No, I’m fine. Let’s get back to work. What was that you were saying about shape manipulation?”

He studied me carefully. “Does this have something to do with the fact that your kido ban ends after today? I thought you would have been happy about that.” I glared at him.

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Don’t I seem happy? I’m happy. Ecstatic, actually. I’m fucking _delighted._ ” I waved my arms around to emphasize my point. “I mean, what’s there to be upset about? You’re leaving—your assignment’s over—so you get to go hang out with your fellow grumpy masked buddies. I get to go back to class, which means that I don’t have to deal with you yelling at me three times a week and can finally do something about my sinking class rank. Win-win situation, right? You can’t tell, but I’m practically jumping for joy on the inside.”

Grumpy-face exhaled heavily, running a hand over his face. “You never said that this was bothering you so much. You didn’t seem this upset last week.”

“Well, that was before you dropped the bomb that you were leaving as soon as my ban was up,” I snapped waspishly. “Before then, I figured I could just do something to get kicked out again, but _no,_ you had to be all ‘I’ve accomplished what I’ve come here for so there is no reason for me to stay.’”

Grumpy-face rolled his eyes at my mulish expression. “Once again, you’ve managed to completely miss my point. What I said was that since I’ve finished my mission objective—which was to scout out and test promising new recruits—there was no reason why we should continue meeting in the woods like this.”

“That’s what I ju--” He held up a hand, stopping me.

 “No, wait. Listen.” Grumpy-face leaned forward, staring at me intently. “We’ve been meeting for a little over a month now. I’d like to think that you’ve gained an idea of how the Kido Corps works—its duties, its values, its rules.”

Despite myself, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “Of course I have. Not that I’m allowed to say anything—first rule of the Kido Corps is that you do not talk about the Kido Corps,” I said slyly. “Isn’t that right, sensei?”

He snorted, reaching out to cuff the back of my head. “You’re a brat.” Despite his words, his tone was almost fond. “Also, I thought I told you not to call me that.”

I shrugged. “It’s either this or ‘Grumpy-kun’. Your pick.”

“How about neither?” He muttered under his breath. “But anyway, back to the point. How much do you know about how the Kido Corps recruits new members?”

“Oh, that one’s easy,” I said breezily. “They send people like you to hide in trees and creep on innocent, unsuspecting students. Bonus points if the recruiters have antisocial and stalking tendencies. After a few weeks or so of secretly spying on students, they decide on which students to recruit.” I thought back to the rumors I’d heard about the Kido Corps before meeting Grumpy-face and added, “Then the students are taken away to be secretly trained and are never seen from again. Unless, of course, they become future recruiters, in which case they continue the cycle of stal--” I yelped, almost falling out of the tree as a bolt of yellow energy came flying towards me, singeing part of my uniform.

“How has that tongue of yours not gotten you killed yet?” Grumpy-face asked, shaking his head wonderingly.

“You know you like me too much to kill me,” I grinned. “Admit it. Things would become dreadfully dull without me around.”

“I think you’re mistaking ‘dull’ for ‘peaceful,’ he grouched. My smile faded a little.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately even. Grumpy-face stared at me for a long time, frustration in his eyes.

“You…you still haven’t realized, have you?” He asked disbelievingly. “God, you must be the most...I can’t believe…”

“Realized what?” I asked impatiently.

“Haven’t you wondered why the end of my assignment just _happened_ to coincide with the end of your ban? Or why it even took so long in the first place, when it would have taken me a week at most to scout out talented members in your kido class? Or even why I’ve been taking the time to give you lessons three times a week for the past month?”

My brow furrowed. “I figured that you were just really, really bored or something. Everyone needs a hobby and it’s not my place to judge. Also,” I dropped my gaze shyly, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I like spending time with you—not just because of the lessons, either. I figured…well, I kind of figured the feeling was mutual.”

There was a long silence before Grumpy-face cleared his throat awkwardly. “I—well, yes. That is part of the reason,” he said, voice a bit rougher than usual. “But the primary reason is…” He hesitated for a moment before visibly steeling himself.

“Yukimura Hisana.” His voice was oddly formal. “Over the past month, you have displayed exceptional reiatsu control, creativity, diligence, and an aptitude for learning the art of kido. For these reasons, I would like to offer you a place in the Kido Corps.”

This time, I really did fall out of the tree.

 

* * *

 

“ _What?”_

“I can’t believe I actually had to spell it out for you. I’m almost impressed—you’ve managed to ignore or misinterpret every single hint I’ve been dropping for the past month,” Grumpy-face said exasperatedly.

I thought back to our past twenty or so lessons and resisted the urge to groan. In hindsight, it was almost embarrassingly obvious. If nothing else, the fact that Grumpy-face had almost completely given up on watching my classmates after the first week and a half should have tipped me off.

It was just…I was so used to people viewing me as a healer that the thought of someone offering me a completely different career didn’t even occur to me. Even in my past life, I’d spent a solid portion of my life preparing to be a doctor, and the rest of it as _Doctor_ Christina Dalton. Of course, dying and getting shoved into a new body had changed things, but even then my new parents had both been doctors. They had spent countless hours teaching me traditional Japanese herbal remedies, how to treat a wound without the benefit of modern technology or pharmaceutics, and it had been an unspoken expectation that I would someday take over their work as the village doctor.

Then I’d died _again,_ but barely a year later I was experimenting with using my reiatsu to heal, and for fifteen years it was unanimously accepted that I was the healer of Tatsuya’s little group. And then…and then Tatsuya and Horio had died and in the wake of that I’d pushed myself to improve as fast as I could, which had eventually lead to me becoming the ‘Angel of Inuzuri’—the girl who would heal anyone and everyone, no questions asked, as long as they didn’t threaten or harm her family. Even after the whole fiasco with Akiyama, things didn’t change, not really. When it came down to it, I was the healer who kept three shinigami alive in the clutches of a madman, and so it only seemed natural for me to accept Unohana’s offer. And thus I became Yukimura Hisana, member of the Fourth Division.

I mean, yes, I did want to improve my combat skills. Even discounting Aizen, the Gotei 13 had…forget closets, they had entire _mansions_ full of skeletons. I didn’t know what happened after Aizen had been defeated, but from what I understood, the shinigami had somehow managed to make enemies of every spiritually-powerful race out there. Keeping that in mind, I _had_ to be able to fight.

The thought of… _not_ working as a healer first and foremost though was completely foreign to me. It was true that Eiji and Hiro sometimes joked about wanting to steal me from the Fourth, and Kaien had offered me a seat in the Thirteenth Division multiple times (“in case you ever get tired of slapping on bandages and chasing down escaping patients”), and even Otoribashi had mentioned something once or twice about me coming to work under him at the Third (“I’ll even give you your own practice room”) but it wasn’t like they were _serious_ about it. How could they be? Healing was as much a part of my identity as my own name at this point. It was something that I’d _chosen_ for myself a very long time ago, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. People knew that.

Or so I’d thought. Studying Grumpy-face carefully, I finally said, “You do know that I’ve already accepted an internship at the Fourth, don’t you? I’m not going to give that up. I made a commitment, and I’m sticking to it.”

Grumpy-face tilted his head forward regally. “Of course. I never expected you to do otherwise. Still, from what I understand, that agreement is non-binding, yes?” When I nodded slowly, he added, “Then I assume there is nothing stopping you from entering a similar agreement with the Kido Corps? It is not mandatory, of course, but I was under the impression that you enjoyed our lessons together.”

Manipulative bastard. I glared at him. “That’s not the problem! Just—let me think about this for a moment?” Rubbing my temples tiredly, I considered my options for several minutes. “This…you mentioned that this would be similar to the arrangement I have at the Fourth. The reason I accepted that internship was because I would be allowed to attend most of the classes here. The only courses I’d be missing would be beginning reiatsu manipulation and theory, which, let’s face it, wouldn’t be of much use to me anyway. But believe it or not, becoming a well-rounded shinigami _is_ important to me, and I can’t afford to skip any of my other classes. Hakuda I’m only doing well in because I know which places to hit in order to cause the most damage, my skill in hohou is average at best, and I refuse to neglect my swordplay.” Tenshi no Tsubasa, for one, would never forgive me.

_I’m glad to see that you have your priorities straight,_ she agreed. _But let’s hear his offer first._

“You’re not the first to have such reservations,” Grumpy-face said evenly. “Which is understandable. It’s difficult to know what direction to take your career in so early on—choosing a squad, even if you can change it later on, is a big decision, and the Kido Corps has more regulations than most. Which is why potential recruits are able to do a six-month-long internship; a trial period, if you will. It benefits us as well as the student, by allowing us to further gauge their capabilities.” When I motioned for him to go on, he continued. “It would not be too different to our current arrangement. Starting next semester, you would be taken out of your regular kido class and put into a ‘special interest’ one--”

“A ‘special interest’ class? Oh, that’s _real_ subtle.”

“—where you would be given lessons by myself, or another Kido Corps member,” he continued smoothly, as if I hadn’t spoken. “You would receive additional training on Mondays and Wednesdays between seven and nine p.m. as well. By the end of the internship, if you decide to continue, you would be extracted from the rest of your classes and trained as a full-time Kido Corps member. If you decide not to, you would reenter your regular kido classes alongside your peers. Of course, either way you would be sworn to secrecy about your internship and whatever information you learned during its duration.”

I was silent for a moment. _What do you think?_ I asked Tenshi no Tsubasa.

_It’s your decision,_ she replied. _But although I doubt that they will disclose any truly confidential information to an intern, if you accept you would gain an additional year of extensive training in this area—enough to build a decent foundation in regards to creating, modifying, and using kido spells. No matter how you look at it, that can only be an advantage._

I nodded, swallowing, before turning to where Grumpy-face was silently waiting for my answer. “Let me first say that I’m honored that you’ve given me this opportunity and I would love to accept. I just have one condition,” I said firmly. At his quizzical look, I looked him in the eye. “At the end of this internship, no matter what happens—whether I stay or go—you and I stay friends. You don’t have to tell me any personal information about yourself or whatever, just…stay in touch. That’s all I ask.”

For a moment, he just stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face—as if he wasn’t quite sure what to think of my request—before he nodded, the gesture barely visible. I relaxed, letting a bright smile cross my face.

“Hey, does this mean that I finally get to see your face?”

“Not a chance.”

 

* * *

 

“Bad day?” Byakuya asked, taking a seat beside me.

“What gave it away?” I said dryly, reaching down to stroke Tonton’s ears.

“Well when Shiba-fukutaicho told me to do something about the fact that you were camped out in his pigpen with a bottle of sake and an unhealthy amount of dango, I drew my own conclusions,” Byakuya said lightly, before nudging me gently. “So what’s wrong? And who do I have to kill?”

I let out a startled laugh, absently leaning against his side. “Unfortunately, I can’t turn to homicide as the solution of all my problems, even though it’d make things a lot easier.”

“So there _is_ someone.” Byakuya was quiet for a moment. “We can always try to get the hell cat to do it? I mean, she’s the head of the Omnitsukido—if anyone can get away with making someone disappear, it’s her,” he offered.

“She’s already told me that individual squads don’t take private commissions,” I said wryly. “Pity. Ruined all my plans of bribing Hirako-taicho to send Ichimaru Gin on a decade-long mission to the Zaraki district too.”

A snuffling sound caught my attention and I looked down as Tonton wiggled out of my arms and promptly began helping herself to my plate of dango. A faint smile crossed my lips and I flicked her lightly on the back of her head. “Insolent brat,” I scolded. Tonton gave me an unimpressed look and deliberately chomped down on another sticky-rice ball, before trudging back to her pen.

“Just like her owner,” Byakuya teased. A glint of humor entered his eyes as I glared at him. Catching my wrist as I half-heartedly punched him in the arm, he tugged me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me to prevent me from retaliating.

“You’re calling me insolent?” I asked with forced grumpiness, in an attempt to distract myself from the warmth of his body against my back. My voice still came out a little breathier than normal and I internally cursed.

_Don’t worry, he won’t notice. That boy’s as thickheaded as they come,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said exasperatedly. I got the distinct impression that she was rolling her eyes.

“Mmhmm,” Byakuya hummed, diverting my attention from Tenshi no Tsubasa’s increasingly uncomplimentary thoughts. “Rukia has to get it from somewhere, after all. Now,” I could feel his breath against the side of my face and I fervently hoped that I wasn’t blushing. “Don’t think you’ve managed to distract me. Why were you so upset earlier?”

I stilled, going rigid in his hold, before letting out a resigned sigh. “You know that I’ve taken an interest in biomedical research and that Unohana-taicho was kind enough to talk to Urahara-taicho about letting me use the Twelfth’s equipment,” I began after a moment of stilted silence. “It’s quite nice there actually. The equipment is more advanced than I could’ve hoped for—far more advanced than what the other squads have—and I got to meet a few people. Akon-kun is adorable, and I’m pretty sure Sarugaki-fukutaicho is going to murder Urahara-taicho someday, which should be entertaining to watch.”

“But…?” Byakuya prompted after a moment.

“It’s just…it’s just…there’s this guy there,” I said, turning around to face him. “Do you know Kurotsuchi Mayuri? Urahara’s third seat?” Realization dawned in Byakuya’s eyes.

“I’ve…heard of him,” he said slowly before his face hardened. “Has he been bothering you? Hurt you in any way?”

“No, nothing like that. I only saw him a few times in passing,” I waved him off. “But…you know what happened with…with Akiyama.” Even months later, I still couldn’t say his name without my throat going dry. “And what Aki-Akiyama did was awful, unforgivable, but the thing was, he never would have gotten away with it, you know? Even if I hadn’t done anything, Shiba-fukutaicho or someone else from the Gotei 13 would have eventually gotten rid of him. But Kurotsuchi Mayuri…” I clenched my jaw, blinking angry tears out of my eyes. Maybe it wasn’t fair to judge him based on my knowledge of what he would one day do, but how could I not?

“I knew Akiyama, I know what people like him are like. And Kurotsuchi is the type of person who would gladly torture someone to death, who would kill hundreds without blinking an eye, all in the ‘pursuit of science’, or some bullshit like that. If he hasn’t started experimenting on people yet, then it’s only a matter of time. And I know that he’s a genius and that the knowledge he obtains could be useful but he was shut away in the Maggot’s Nest for a reason and I just don’t understand how Urahara-taicho…how the _Gotei 13_ can let a man like that wander around freely.”

It was irrational of me to be so upset. It wasn’t like I hadn’t _known_ about Kurotsuchi Mayuri, and I knew that I’d run into him eventually. But coming face-to-face with him, seeing the casual way he’d brushed me off because he needed to get back to his ‘specimens’…all I could think about was Eiji screaming as he was strapped to that examination table, Hiro crying when he thought I couldn’t see, Chiyo’s blank stare—

“I’m so sorry,” Byakuya said softly, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke my cheek. “If I can do anything to help…” I offered him a slightly bitter smile.

“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing you can do. But as long as Urahara is still captain…well, I doubt that he would let Kurotsuchi go _too_ far,” I said quietly. Urahara, as manipulative as he could be, did seem to have a moral compass, albeit a rather flexible one. The problem, of course, was that Urahara’s time here was limited. And that was another thing to worry about, wasn’t it? When it came down to it, could I really excuse my inaction regarding Aizen?

Then again, what the hell could I do? I had no idea when the Visored incident would happen and only a very vague idea about what Aizen’s plan was—and besides, even if I tried to warn someone, who would believe me? _Urahara_ hadn’t even suspected Aizen until everything went to hell. Hirako only had suspicions at best. And if Aizen had even the slightest idea that I didn’t buy his act—well, not only was I dead meat, but anyone I was close to would probably be in danger also. Then there was the fact that I was pretty sure Aizen had something to do with Kurosaki Ichigo’s birth and if there was one thing I was fairly certain of, it was that Ichigo was _essential_ to the future.

There were a million and one reasons why I couldn’t do anything about Aizen. Still, whenever I thought about the fact that sometime in the near future, Yoruichi would give up everything for her best friend, Urahara would be framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and Otoribashi along with seven other individuals would have their lives ruined…

_You can’t save everyone,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa whispered. _Don’t hate yourself for not being able to._

I closed my eyes wearily. _You’re right, of course. I’m not omnipotent. Besides, none of them die, as far as I know._

I’d have to be content with that.

“But enough talking about creepy scientists. No use moping about things I can’t change,” I said briskly, forcibly shoving my morbid thoughts to the back of my mind. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”

Byakuya searched my features for a few moments before dropping the subject. “I’ve been fine. Been a bit busy lately,” he answered casually.

“Oh? With what?” I asked, leaning back against his chest. “Defeating monsters, saving little children, inspiring the next generation?” Byakuya chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, nothing like that. You seem to think that my job is far more interesting than it actually is when truthfully most of my time is taken up with bureaucracy,” he murmured. “More so than usual recently. A lot of applications have been coming in from students interested in joining the Sixth after graduation. I’ve been sorting through them, trying to deem which ones have potential.”

“Mmm. Well, it still sounds like important work to me,” I said, tilting my head and letting my lips curl up into a playful smile. “So how’s it feel to have the fate of someone’s future career resting in your hands?”

“I hardly think that I have the power to decide the ‘fate of their future careers.’ Leave it to you to find a way to make even paperwork sound dramatic,” Byakuya laughed. “No, even if I reject someone’s application, they can always join another squad and apply again in six months, if they so wish. In the grand scheme of things, something as inconsequential as my decision regarding their application will have very little impact on their lives.” I suppose that made sense. If you had eternity at your fingertips, what did it matter if you failed to get what you wanted the first time around?

“But enough about that. I won’t bore you with the details; your time is far too valuable for such tedious matters, Hisana,” he said teasingly, taking my hands in his own. “I would hate for you to find me dull.”

“Impossible,” I scoffed. Honestly, he could talk about nothing but this year’s budget reports and I still wouldn’t get tired of hearing his voice. “Besides, busy or not, I’ll always make time for you.” I turned to study him closely. “Especially now. Eiji told me that you’ve been stressed at home,” I said quietly. Byakuya’s smile faded a little.

“Did he? I see I need to have a talk with him about needlessly worrying you,” he muttered, voice slightly irritated.

“Don’t. He’s just concerned. As am I,” I said, eying the faint lines of stress on Byakuya’s face. Cupping his face, I lightly traced the purple shadows that were just starting to form under his eyes with my thumbs. “Just because I’ve been…caught up with my own issues this past week doesn’t mean that I haven’t noticed. You’ve been tired lately. More so than usual, I mean,” I said quietly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but you’ve always offered to listen to me. If at all possible, I’d like to do the same for you.”

“I can never seem to hide anything from you, can I?” Byakuya said, smiling faintly. “I’ve just been tied up with clan business recently, Hisana. The elders—particularly my grandmother—can be frustrating at the best of times, and on this particular issue—well, they’re being particularly obstinate. Don’t worry though; they’ll come around. This is one thing I won’t budge on. They’ll see that eventually.”

“Must be something important, for you to be so adamant about it,” I said, looking at him curiously. For all that Byakuya sometimes disagreed with the Kuchiki clan elders, he usually went along with their wishes. This was the first time I’d heard of him taking such a deliberate stand against them—although granted, considering the fact that he rarely talked about his clan’s business with me, that wasn’t saying much.

“Oh, most definitely,” he agreed, although he didn’t go into details. Steel gray eyes hardened for a moment. “I won’t give this up for anything, Hisana.”

I peered closely at him, a bit taken aback by the burning resolve in his eyes. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to make your life easier, just tell me, okay?” I said with faux-nonchalance, trying to lighten the mood. “As your friend, it’s my duty to make sure you don’t go around all stressed and broody. So, is there anything you want? Baked goods? A massage? For all your paperwork to burn up in an ‘accidental’ fire?”

 “Hisana, stop,” Byakuya chuckled. The edge in his expression from before had vanished, to be replaced with warm tenderness. “There’s only one thing I want you to do, and that’s to keep doing what you’ve always done. Just keep being _yourself,_ and I’ll handle the rest, alright?”

I nodded, still feeling a little confused, and he laughed fondly, tugging me forward so that my head rested under his chin. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. “Don’t worry—I’ll take care of everything.”

 

* * *

 

“And here’s the break room! It’s not much, but if you go through that window over there, it’s an easy climb to the roof, which is where I go to hide whenever Iemura-senpai gets into one of his moods,” I said, gesturing with a flourish towards the mostly-empty room. “It also has a lot of nice sofas and cushions in case you want to take a quick nap.”

“It’s really nice. Thanks for giving us a tour, Hisana-san,” Isane said gratefully. Next to her, Hanataro was taking everything in with an almost wistful expression on his face.

“It’s just as I remembered,” he said quietly.

“You’ve been here before?” I asked curiously. He glanced up, a startled expression on his face as if he’d forgotten our presence.

“Huh? Oh, yes. My b-brother used to be lieutenant of the Fourth before he…left,” Hanataro said softly, his voice trailing off. “He used to bring me here though, show me around—he’s the reason I want to join the Fourth after graduation.”

Isane and I shared a look, silently agreeing not to push. I’d known that the Fourth Division didn’t have a lieutenant at the moment, but I’d never known that the previous one was Hanataro’s _brother._ Still, the subject was obviously a sensitive one, and I frantically looked around for a distraction.

Ten seconds later, as I was tackled to the floor by a blur of pink and black, I conceded that I probably should have been more careful about what to wish for.

“Hisa-chan! Hisa-chan!” Yachiru squealed, bouncing on my chest.

“Yachiru-chan, sweetheart, I’m— _oomph—_ happy to see you too but could you please stop jumping?” I pleaded, before sending a glare at the two familiar figures behind her. “A little help here would be appreciated, you know.”

“What? Can’t even handle a toddler, Yukimura?” Ikkaku said, grinning. I scowled.

“You hypocrite. You weren’t looking quite so smug last week when she got hungry and started chewing on your head,” I grumbled.

“Hey! That was--” Ikkaku sputtered, before a perfectly groomed hand settled on his shoulder.

“Ikkaku, calm yourself,” Yumichika said mildly, before reaching out and lifting Yachiru off of my chest. He offered me a slight smile, and extended the hand that wasn’t holding Yachiru to help me up. “Nice to see you again, Yukimura.”

“Thank you, Ayasegawa-san,” I said, grasping his offered hand. He pulled me to my feet, and I flashed him a bright smile. “Such a gentleman. See, this is why you’re my favorite.”

“Not because of my devastatingly good looks?” He asked, eyes glinting with humor.

“Well, that _is_ part of the reason,” I laughed fondly. “As always, you’re a vision of loveliness, Ayasegawa-san. Why, your beauty is the envy of every woman in the Seireitei.” Yumichika preened, running one hand through his hair.

“I do try. It’s a tough job to maintain such splendor, especially in a squad like the Eleventh, but somebody has to do it,” he said modestly as Ikkaku gagged in the background.

“You might find some competition once this one grows up though,” I said, leaning down to face Yachiru. “Isn’t that right, Yachiru-chan? You’re going to be the prettiest, strongest shinigami in all of Soul Society one day, aren’t you?” She giggled as I reached out to tap her on her nose.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that. If anyone can surpass me, it’d have to be Kusajishi-fukutaicho,” Yumichika said, amused.

“Get to the point, Yumi,” Ikkaku said impatiently, before turning to face me. “Oi Yukimura, you up for a game of Cats and Mice?”

‘Cats and Mice’ was one of many games I’d introduced to Yachiru since I met her. The original premise was that one person would start off as the ‘cat’ and everyone else would be the ‘mice’. The mice would run from one side of a field to the other, and anyone the cat managed to tag would become cats as well, and join the original cat in trying to catch the others. The last mouse remaining would become the ‘cat’ of the next game.

Of course, because this was the Eleventh Division, they’d added their own twist to it. Instead of just tagging people, you had to draw blood. After that, I wisely made the decision to never tell anyone in the Eleventh about the game ‘Red Rover’. I had enough to do without having to deal with healing a couple dozen broken arms.

“Sounds fun,” I agreed, before a thought struck me. “Mind if a few friends of mine join in?” With that, I turned to Isane and Hanataro, who were currently looking like they were trying to blend into the wall.

“Oh no, we—we don’t want to intrude,” Isane said hastily. Hanataro nodded frantically next to her.

“Nonsense,” I said cheerfully. “The more the merrier.” Two extra meat shields were always a good thing, after all. Besides, it was for the greater good, really. There was a huge possibility that both Isane and Hanataro would eventually join the Fourth, and so by inviting them…well, it was about time that interdivision relations between the Fourth and the Eleventh improved.

Turning to Ikkaku and Yumichika, I asked, “You guys don’t mind, do you?”

Ikkaku grunted. “If they want to join, it’s up to them,” he said before stalking away. Yumichika smiled pleasantly. “Any friends of Yukimura-san are always welcome to come,” he said politely.

Yachiru clapped her hands together and cheered. “Yay! More people to play with!” She grinned reassuringly at them. Isane paled and Hanataro had a doomed look in his eyes. “Don’t worry! It’s _real_ easy ta learn. All ya gotta do is run really fast and avoid the people swingin’ swords at ya! See? Easy-peasy.”

 

* * *

 

“Hieeeeee! _What do you mean I’m the cat?”_ Hanataro shrieked half an hour later.

“I just told ya! You were the last mouse remaining and so you get to be the cat this time!” Ikkaku said, before slugging Hanataro in the shoulder. “Didn’t expect ya to last so long. Not bad, shrimp.”

“I’m proud of you, Yamada-kun,” I called out from where I was patching up a thin cut on Isane’s shoulder. “I knew you could do it!”

“You know as well as I do that the only reason he won was because no one bothered to go after him in the beginning and by the time they remembered him, he was the only one left,” Isane murmured to me, still panting slightly from exertion. At least the exercise had eliminated some of her nervousness.

“Invisibility is its own strength. Besides, this could be a good thing—if nothing else, it’ll force him to come out of his shell,” I pointed out. “Yamada-kun doesn’t even need to chase after them; at least five people will come after him on their own.” The vast majority of the Eleventh Division, I’d found, didn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘running away’ and so usually ‘Cats and Mice’ turned into ‘Mice attacking Cats.’

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Isane muttered as the whistle blew and we took off. Glancing at Hanataro, I noticed that sure enough, about six or seventh Eleventh Division members were heading straight towards him.

“Oh no,” Isane said worriedly. Hanataro, admittedly, didn’t seem to be doing too well. His face was pale, his stance was rigid, and even from this distance I could tell that he was shaking. I grabbed Isane’s wrist as she started heading towards him.

“Wait,” I murmured. In his panic, Hanataro seemed to have forgotten every technique he’d learned in class and was now swinging his zanpakuto around blindly. I waited until everyone was sufficiently distracted before—

“Hadou #1: Sho!” I said quietly. The drastically watered down spell, too weak to draw attention or suspicion, caused sixth seat Iba Tetsuzaemon to stumble forward slightly…and collide with the tip of Hanataro’s blade. For a moment, the fighting ceased as everyone stared at the thin wound—barely more than a scratch, really—on Iba’s left shoulder. Hanataro’s eyes were wide.

“Well, now that Yamada-kun has some support, it’s time for us to go,” I said in satisfaction as Iba roared a challenge and charged at Ikkaku. Hanataro’s success seemed to have emboldened him a bit, as he was now tentatively sparring with one of the unseated Eleventh Division officers. Grabbing Isane by the wrist, I began tugging her towards the other side of the field.

“You--” Isane said, still stunned. “I can’t believe you just did that!” I winked at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said innocently. “By the end of this day, all anyone’s going to know is that Yamada Hanataro managed to score a hit on the Eleventh Division sixth seat. That’s the only thing that matters.” 

 

* * *

 

Two hours and several games later (Yachiru had been the cat for the last game—it barely lasted five minutes), I was patching up the more serious cuts as Ikkaku brought out sake for everyone (minus Yachiru) to drink.

“Did you see how I fought that one guy? You know, the really tall one with the beard?” Isane asked excitedly.

“Yes, I did. He sure won’t be underestimating you anytime soon,” I said warmly. Isane beamed, practically glowing with pride.

“It’s so strange…before today, I never would have thought I’d have a chance against—you know—a _real shinigami._ But I actually stood my ground, and scored a couple cuts! I mean, this was just a game and not a real battle, but…but I did better than I thought I would,” she said happily. “It wasn’t just once either; it happened _three times.”_ She’d also gotten punched in the face and elbowed in the nose in the process, but hey, whatever made her happy.

Next to her, Hanataro nodded, radiating a quiet confidence I’d never seen from him before. “Thank you for bringing us, Yukimura-chan. I-I didn’t think that I’d have fun, but I did.”

“I’m telling you, all you needed was some faith in yourselves. Once you realized that you _could_ do it…I mean, I think the results speak for themselves.”

“Well said, Yukimura,” Yumichika said approvingly as he walked over, Ikkaku next to him. “There is nothing more crippling to a fighter’s ability than doubt, after all. Doubt breeds fear, fear begets cowardice and there is _nothing_ uglier than cowardice in this world.”

“You’re off to a good start though. I mean, you still have a long way to go and your technique makes my head hurt, but at least you both showed some balls. Which is more than I was expecting, to be honest,” Ikkaku added bluntly. “Keep it up and you might just reach Eleventh Division potential someday.”

“Thank you, Madarame-sama, but uh, I—I actually want to join the Fourth,” Hanataro mumbled awkwardly, ears red.

“I as well,” Isane said quietly, looking at the floor. I felt a warm rush of pride rise up within me—it couldn’t have been easy to say that. While most of the Eleventh Division seemed to have no problem with me being a Fourth Division intern (anymore), that was _after_ I ‘proved myself’ through the wasabi incident and later, by whacking a drunken officer on the head with a frying pan after he tripped me and made me drop my plate of dango.

As if to prove my point, Ikkaku’s nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something bad. I sent a warning look at him—third seat or not, if he said something derogatory I would punch him. Then his face smoothed over and he rolled his eyes.

“Tch. Whatever. Don’t matter what squad you’re in, everyone needs some Eleventh Division inside of them,” he said gruffly. “Remember that.”

 

* * *

 

“What are you two do--” Kaien cut himself off as I hastily made shushing motions. Glancing at where Chiyo was engrossed in putting the finishing touches on her painting, I grabbed one of her finished products on the table next to her and gestured for Kaien to follow me to another room.

“Sorry about that. Chiyo-chan is surprisingly touchy about people interrupting her when she’s drawing—I didn’t want to disturb her,” I explained once we were out of earshot.

“Oh? I didn’t know she was so interested in art,” Kaien said, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“I didn’t either, until I asked her to help me on a new project I’m working on.” When he motioned for me to continue, I handed him a slightly faded old flyer. “See this?”

“It’s one of the advertisement posters for the Fourth Division,” he said, slightly bemused. “What about it?”

“It’s boring as hell, that’s what’s wrong with it,” I said flatly, before pausing in thought. “Well. Maybe that’s too harsh of a description. It’s a picture of Unohana-taicho, which is good because Unohana-taicho is the most badass person in the entire Gotei 13 and the best role model anyone could ask for--”

“—aww, it’s so cute the way you look up to her. Like a baby chick following its mother!” Kaien interrupted, grinning.

“—but it’s bad because it doesn’t really say anything about what the Fourth stands for,” I continued, ignoring his blathering with practiced ease. A baby chick, _honestly._ How did he even come up with this stuff? “Like, it just shows her standing there. Doing nothing. Which is very peaceful and all, but there’s nothing _informative_ or even particularly engaging on here, you know? Nothing to grab a person’s attention and encourage them to apply. And apparently they’ve been using this same flyer for the past _ten years,”_ I said, grimacing.

“You seem to be rather…passionate about this,” Kaien observed, expression slightly amused. “It’s just a flyer, Yukimura. No need to get worked up over it.” I was silent for a moment.

“Did you know that every year, fewer applications go towards the Fourth Division than anywhere else?” I asked quietly. “And not only that—most of the applications are from the lower four classes of the Academy. We’re lucky to get more than a handful of students applying from the top fifty ranks. And yet despite the…lower quality of the applicants, we have a 92% acceptance rate. The highest out of all thirteen divisions, beating the Eleventh by an entire 14%. Can you imagine? _Squad 11,_ the squad known for accepting anyone and everyone so long as they can swing a sword around, is pickier than the squad responsible for _keeping people alive.”_

“I didn’t know that,” Kaien said, his voice stilted. A slightly bitter smile curled at the edges of my lips.

“Neither did I, until Byakuya brought up the subject of new recruits about a week ago. I was…well, I suppose I took an interest in the subject. Didn’t have much time to look into things myself, but Isane offered to help. And it turns out that it’s actually remarkably easy to look that information up. The Academy keeps detailed records of where each student goes after graduation and it’s all public; anyone can access them. Which is how I know that the Fourth Division gets the lowest number of applicants—that out of the 92% of people who are accepted, only 15% decide to actually join, and that we have the lowest retention rate as well; most people who join transfer to another squad within five to ten years.” I swallowed, pushing down the swell of anger and indignation rising within me. “Guess we have the reputation of being the ‘backup squad’ for a reason, huh?”

“Yukimura--” Kaien began, looking stricken. I turned to face him, my voice hardening.

“The 13th Division has never had this issue and so I don’t expect you to understand the insecurity--” the _shame_ “--so many Fourth Division members carry around with them.”

God, when had been the last time I’d seen anyone from the Fourth besides Unohana-taicho take pride, honest pride, in their work? In themselves? Even Iemura-senpai, for all his bluster, had the tendency to defer to any officer of another squad. Brushing those thoughts off, I turned back to Kaien and crossed my arms against my chest.

“I can’t do anything about the past, but I can’t—I _won’t_ let Squad Four continue to be the ‘safety squad’. The one known for taking in all the rejects who couldn’t get in anywhere else. I won’t let some kid give up his dream of being a healer just because they’re afraid of joining the Fourth and being labeled a failure,” I said heatedly. “I don’t care if I have to revamp the entire Squad Four application system by myself but there’s going to come a day where someone mentions applying to become a healer and people will view it as the _accomplishment_ it is.” By the end of my impromptu speech, my breathing was heavier than usual and I felt my cheeks flush as I realized that I’d just gone off on a five minute rant. Not that I would take any of my words back, but I hadn’t meant to say so much.

“Hmm. And what does Unohana-taicho think of your goal, I wonder? I assume that you’ve discussed the matter with her?” Kaien asked, tone neutral.

“We’re still working out the details,” I said, deflating slightly. I’d wanted to implement an essay section and an interview in the application process, as well as much stricter acceptance guidelines, but Unohana-taicho had pointed out that make the application too demanding and we’d end up with _no_ applicants. Something that we couldn’t really afford, given how understaffed we _already_ were. It was irritatingly difficult trying to maintain a balance between making the selection process more exclusive and not scaring people away.

“Oh?” Kaien mused.

“I mean, we spent a couple hours brainstorming some ideas about how to garner more interest, encourage more talented individuals to apply. To begin with, we discussed the possibility of maybe getting a few people from the Fourth to come over to the Academy to conduct a couple of elementary healing kido lessons. I know it’s already an optional course offered at the Academy but a few mandatory information sessions might help as well; you know, give _all_ the students some idea as to--” I stopped as I noticed Kaien staring at me, an odd little smile curling at the corners of his lips. “What?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s just that things like this? Discussing the future of the squad, coming up with recruitment tactics? They aren’t really the types of responsibilities I’d expect a captain to give to just anyone.” I frowned, puzzled.

“You mean you’re surprised Unohana-taicho is giving me so much work to do when I’m just an intern?” I guessed. Made sense, I supposed. Still, I didn’t want Kaien to get the wrong idea. “You don’t have to worry about her overworking me. I can handle it—besides, I’m the one who brought up this subject with her in the first place.”

“That’s not what I—oh, never mind. How does Murakami-chan come into this?” He asked, changing subjects halfway through his sentence. I brightened up.

“I was talking with Hiro about designing some new posters for the Fourth Division. I mean, I doubt a pretty poster by itself will change peoples’ minds, but hopefully it’ll get their attention and make them _consider_ us, at least. Even if it’s only as a passing thought, I’ll still count that as an accomplishment. Anyway, he mentioned that since Chiyo’s a pretty good artist, I could ask her to help me. I have to admit, she exceeded all my expectations,” I said, beaming proudly before holding up the poster I’d snatched off Chiyo’s desk for him to see.

“Isn’t it amazing? I had no idea she was so talented!” I pointed to the blue-violet bellflower taking up a good portion of the page, elegant petals surrounded by leafy green vines reaching towards the sun. “Don’t the colors blend together nicely? I’ll have to get her to teach me how to paint with watercolor after this,” I said, smiling. “I’m thinking of getting Eiji to write a short message. Maybe some words on the petals too, like ‘hard work,’ ‘dedication,’ ‘renewal,’ ‘hope,’…words that’ll give people an idea of what our squad stands for. I’d do it myself, but his calligraphy is leagues better than mine.” Probably a Kuchiki hereditary trait, or something.

“I’m sure Kuchiki-fukutaicho would be more than happy to help as well,” Kaien commented nonchalantly. “Miyako’s always offering to help me with different things—I honestly have no idea what I’d do without her—and I’m sure Kuchiki-fukutaicho would be willing to do the same for you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I mean, I’m sure he’d be _willing_ but I don’t want to cause more trouble for him. He’s so busy these days, you know?” I asked, smiling wistfully. Not that I could really say much; between school, my responsibilities at the Fourth, working at the 12th, and making time for my friends, I was lucky if I got more than four or five hours of sleep a night. “And he’s already done so much for me. I don’t want to make myself a burden, especially given the way he’s so wrapped up in clan politics right now.”

“Wait, he’s discussed that with you?” Kaien asked, an expression of pleased surprise crossing his face. I paused, a bit taken aback by the shock in his eyes, but continued.

“Yes, he’s still negotiating with his clan elders but if I try to get him to go into more detail about how things are going he shuts me out—I think he’s trying to avoid worrying me. Still, I can tell that they’re not…happy with his choice.” At least that was what I’d gathered from our conversation together. What that ‘choice’ consisted of, I still had no idea.

“No, I don’t imagine they would be. Still, it’s about time he stood up to those elders of his,” Kaien murmured, a gleeful glint in his eyes. “He should have told them to suck it ages ago.”

“It’s perfectly understandable that he wants their approval,” I scolded, before letting out a sigh. “I just wish he’d confide more in me, but whenever I bring up the subject of how things are going with his clan, it’s always ‘I’ll handle it, Hisana,’ and ‘Don’t worry about me, Hisana,’” I huffed. Maybe I’d have left the subject alone if it hadn’t been _so obviously_ bothering him (he was going to develop permanent stress lines at this point) and I just didn’t understand why he was so reticent about the issue.

“He probably just doesn’t want you to feel guilty, or to feel like any of this is your fault,” Kaien pointed out.

I paused, feeling slightly confused. Why would I feel like this was my fault? Sure, I knew that relations between Byakuya and his family had been slightly strained for a while due to his friendship with me (not everyone in the Kuchiki clan was happy about their precious heir becoming close to a commoner), but what did that have to do with this?

“I’m just glad that you’ve decided to support him in this,” Kaien said warmly, placing one hand on my shoulder. I blinked in surprise.

“Of course I’ll support him,” I answered automatically, feeling bewildered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then I’m happy for you two. You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” Kaien mused thoughtfully. “Based on what Kukaku’s told me, I didn’t think Kuchiki would be able to talk you around without a lot of persuading first. Although granted, I also didn’t think he’d bring the subject up so early. But then again, it’s probably better this way—that you two talked things through and came to an understanding, even if things aren’t official yet.”

I began to feel like we were having two distinctly different conversations…or that I was missing something very, very obvious. Trying not to let on how clueless I felt, I asked. “Why were you surprised Byakuya brought it up so early?” Brought _what_ up so early?

“I guess I shouldn’t have been. God knows that behind that composure of his, he’s hiding a hell of a lot of impatience,” Kaien laughed, before tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t have expected him to bring up the subject of a courtship until after he’d finalized everything with his clan, smoothed things over a bit--” His voice trailed off as he noticed the blood drain from my face.

“Yukimura? You alright?” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Maybe you should lie down, you look a little pale…”

“Courtship?” I repeated faintly. Kaien’s brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“Well, yes. What did you think we were talking ab—wait, you didn’t know?” He demanded, a dawning horror diffusing across his face until he looked about as sick as I felt.

“I knew he had a disagreement with his clan over a specific matter. I just didn’t know…” My voice trailed off. No, I didn’t know what was going on. But I knew someone who _did._ Whirling around, I grabbed Kaien’s arm in a vice-like grip before he could make his escape. “I think that you and I have a lot to talk about, don’t you, Shiba-fukutaicho?”

“Uh, shouldn’t you be discussing this with Ku--” I tightened my grip on his arm and he winced. “Look Yukimura, I honestly don’t know much, he just came to me for some advice--”

“I don’t care. You know more than me about what’s going on, which is completely unacceptable,” I said, cutting him off.  “ _Start talking.”_

Kaien groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Oh man, Kukaku’s going to murder me in my _sleep_. See, this is what I get for overestimating Kuchiki’s ability to grow a pair and actually ask the girl he likes out,” he muttered. “Fucking hell, he’s going to _kill_ me.”

“That’s the least of your worries right now,” I said mildly, digging my nails into his skin to stop my hand from trembling. “Now, what was that about a courtship?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com for more of my writing :)


	24. Chapter 24

As I tossed back yet another saucer of sake, I mentally conceded that there were probably better ways of handling this afternoon’s revelation than heading out alone, finding the nearest mostly-empty bar, and drinking myself into a stupor. Still, if it worked for Kazuki, I saw no reason why it shouldn’t work for me as well.

In a small corner of my mind, I admitted that it was probably a bad sign that I’d started using _Kazuki_ of all people as a model for good coping methods. The much larger part of my mind told that part to shove it. After all, if I was here making bad life decisions that would probably result in the mother of all hangovers tomorrow morning, I wasn’t _out there_ making worse life decisions like yelling at Byakuya for starting _courtship negotiations_ with his clan without _consulting me first._

“Goddamn it, Byakuya,” I murmured, swirling around the alcohol in my cup. _How could he--?_

_Perhaps you are jumping to conclusions,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa pointed out hesitantly. _I would suggest holding out on forming an opinion until you have had the opportunity to talk to him personally._

_Talk to him? What good would that do?_ I asked tersely. _What was he thinking, anyway? How could he just…assume that I’d agree to this?_

_You_ do _want this, though,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said softly.

_It doesn’t matter whether or not I want this, the point is that he’s just assuming that I do! He’s not going to go through so much with his clan for nothing, which means that a part of him is already confident that I’ll accept._ I finished the sake in my cup before filling it again.

_Don’t get me wrong,_ I added. _I—a part of me does want this, more than anything. And if this was a perfect world, I wouldn’t even hesitate. But the fact is, this isn’t a perfect world. It’s a world where his own family will be fighting—is_ already _fighting—against him every step of the way, and what happens as the months drag on and things don’t get better? I don’t…I don’t want to lose his friendship too._ _I’d rather watch him get married to a nice, noble girl than risk losing that. And the fact that he hasn’t even_ asked _me about my thoughts on the matter before talking to his clan about this—as if I’ve already agreed…_

My fingers clenched around my cup, clutching it so tightly my knuckles turned white. _It’s like he doesn’t respect my opinion at all._

_Don’t say that,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa cut in. _You don’t know all the details yet—talk to him before you choose to say anything rash. Give him a chance to explain. Either way, sitting in this bar drinking your concerns away will not help—_

“Long week?” I blinked, startled, as a tall, thin shinigami I didn’t recognize sat down in the seat across from me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, bewildered as to why he was talking to me.

“Just saying, you looked pretty preoccupied there,” he said, one side of his mouth tilting up in a lopsided smile. “So what are you doing here all alone? Pretty thing like you should have someone to keep you company, don’t you think?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said dryly, wondering why I had to attract weirdo creeps who targeted lonely, vulnerable, drunk girls in bars.

_This is just a guess mind you, but I’d wager it’s because you’re currently a lonely, vulnerable, drunk girl in a bar,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said sardonically, with a side of ‘this is why you should have listened to me about how alcohol is not the end-all be-all of solutions’. I scowled.

“Aww, don’t be like that. At least let me buy you a drink before you judge me so harshly, yeah?” He asked, leaning forward to grasp my hand. My eye twitched.

“Thanks for your offer, but I’m not interested,” I said, snatching my hand away and subtly grasping one of the daggers Kazuki had given me with my other. I _really_ didn’t want to make a scene today of all days, but if he kept this up…well, I’d found that a cut artery or two was an excellent way of discouraging even the most persistent of perverts.

_Overkill. Just paralyze him like you did to that one boy in your class,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa commented. _Much less messy._

_True. Still kind of too conspicuous for my taste though,_ I said. _It’ll be a last resort, in either case._

There was an unsettling glint in the stranger’s eyes now. “What’s the matter? Don’t think I’m good enough for you? If that’s the case, I think you’ll find that I can change your mind, little girl,” he said, leaning forward. “Or is it a boyfriend that’s making you so hesitant? Don’t worry. I promise you, he’ll never know.”

Okay, that was _it_. My fingers tightened around the handle of my knife and I was just about to test the adage ‘violence is not the answer’ (Ikkaku and Yumichika would be so proud), when I felt a heavy weight settle against my shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” a feminine voice said lightly. Eyes widening, I barely caught a glimpse of long strawberry-blonde hair and clear light-blue eyes before the newcomer wrapped her arms around me. Stiffening, I was just about to shove her off when her hold tightened and I felt her lightly trace the words _need an escape?_ on my arm where creepy-needs-to-take-a-hint-pervert couldn’t see.

I hesitated for a moment before relaxing, deciding to play along. I _had_ been hoping to avoid making a scene, after all.

“You said you’d be free by eight,” I pouted, inserting the slightest hint of a whine into my voice. “You _promised.”_

“I know. I just got caught up in work—you know how my captain is sometimes,” she said contritely. Glancing towards the man sitting across the table who was currently staring at us with wide eyes, she added, “Sorry about that. She gets a bit testy whenever I’m late.”

Creepy McPerv nodded dumbly, eyes locked on the way my…rescuer nuzzled her face against mine playfully. Whoever she was, I had to admit that she was a damn good actress. She played the part of a besotted lover flawlessly. Still, a performance was only as good as the sum of its actors so…

I huffed, crossing my arms. “I’m allowed to be angry. I haven’t seen you in _forever,_ and the first time you’re free in two weeks you make me wait half an hour?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I really am.” She ducked her head so that her lips were by my ear and murmured huskily, “Let me make it up to you?”

Despite myself, I felt myself almost enjoying the game. At this point, it was almost an unspoken competition to see who could put on the most convincing act—and it was a nice distraction from my annoyingly complicated _real_ love life, if nothing else. A touch of reiatsu was enough to increase the flow of blood to my cheeks, resulting in a nice flush. Biting my lip, I glanced shyly up at her. “Make it up to me?”

“Mmhmm.” Half-lidded eyes held my gaze. “ _Over_ and _over_ again.”

My lips twitched as I struggled to maintain my adoring expression. Of all the ridiculously cheesy lines…

Closing my eyes for a moment to calm myself, I tilted my head back and rested my head on her chest. It made a surprisingly comfortable pillow. “Okay. Impress me and I _might_ consider forgiving you. But you’re going to have to work for it,” I said, my voice coming out breathier than normal as I tried not to laugh. My pretend-girlfriend chuckled, breath warm against my face.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” she replied smoothly.

A cough from across the table caught my attention and I looked up to see Perverted Asshole staring at us, a bright red flush crawling up his face and a comically uncomfortable expression on his face.

“So, you guys are…uh…together then?” He asked incredulously. “How does that even work? Don’t you need a guy to…um…”

A disdainful look crossed my temporary-girlfriend’s face, icy-blue eyes glancing towards him scornfully.

“If you’re under the impression that a dick is the only way to pleasure a girl, then I pity any female you’ve been with,” she said coolly. I had to turn my head away and press my face into her chest in an attempt to keep from snickering. “Excuse us, but I have a girlfriend to make up to, and I’d really prefer for my acts of penitence to be conducted in a more…private setting, if you get what I mean.” With that, she gently directed us out of the near-empty bar as the guy sputtered indignantly behind us. We barely made it out the door before we looked at each other’s near-pained expressions and burst into laughter.

“Did you see the look on his _face?”_ I asked between fits of chuckles as we walked down the nearly-empty street. “Oh god, that was _brilliant_.”

“He looked so confused too—it’s almost like he’s never seen a lesbian couple before,” the blonde said, eyes glittering with humor. I snorted.

“I can’t believe he fell for it. That was the most over-the-top acting I’ve done in _years,”_ I said despairingly. “You’re a bad influence, shinigami-san.”

“Oh, please. You enjoyed it—you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it otherwise,” she said, waving me off dismissively. “I could have gotten us out of there in thirty seconds; you were the one who kept the act going. Not that I minded.” She smiled at me. “I had way more fun than I was expecting to.”

“As did I,” I said, unable to keep from returning her smile. “Thanks for stepping in. I was having a bad day and…well, things might have ended badly.”

“For him or for you?” She asked, amusement tinting her voice. “You looked like you were two seconds away from strangling him when I came in.”

“I was contemplating castration actually,” I admitted. “Which probably wasn’t the smartest move, considering the fact that he was more armed than I was. So either way…thank you.”

“No problem. Us girls have to look out for each other, yeah?” She said, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

“Right,” I agreed, before glancing at her curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking…what were you doing there in the first place? Forgive my presumption, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of girl to go drinking out by herself on a Thursday night.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked, after a brief pause. I shrugged.

“You’re beautiful, you’re witty, and you helped out a fellow girl in need without hesitation. You can’t tell me that you don’t have a lot of friends who would love to go out with you,” I said bluntly. A look of surprise crossed her face before she smiled wryly.

“To be honest, I was supposed to meet with a friend outside the bar to celebrate my promotion, but…it didn’t look like he was coming,” she said. I frowned at her tone—half wistfulness, half resignation—before reaching out and grasping her elbow.

“Well, whoever he is, he’s an idiot and he doesn’t deserve you,” I said firmly.

“Probably not. Still, I’ve put far too much effort into him to give up on him now.” She smiled again, more genuinely this time, before turning to me.

“What about you? You’re beautiful, you’re spirited, and you have a sense of humor. You don’t seem like the type of girl who lacks friends either,” she pointed out. I paused for a moment, absentmindedly kicking at a stray rock as I debated what to tell her.

_Ah, what the hell. It’s not like we know each other, and in a city this big, I might not ever see her again. What’s the harm?_

“I just found out that my best friend was…keeping some important things from me, the bastard. I had to find out through a mutual friend. And I don’t know what that stuff means for our relationship,” I said finally.

A light touch on my shoulder made me look up. “Boys are stupid,” my new friend said sagely, with all the wisdom born of long years of experience. A reluctant smile tugged at the edges of my lips.

“You know,” I said, after a long moment of consideration. “It was a horrible idea for me to go out drinking _alone._ But if you wanted…well, it seems an awful shame to let your promotion pass without copious amounts of celebratory alcohol.” Byakuya…my issue with Byakuya could wait until tomorrow.

The blonde paused for a minute, before a slow smile began to spread across her lips. “There’s a bar a few blocks from here having an event where drinks are half-price to couples today,” she said conversationally, offering me her arm. “Shall we?”

“To fake romances and new friendships and forgetting about idiot boys,” I agreed, linking my arm with hers.

 

* * *

 

“Dat wash…that was _so much fun!”_ My new friend squealed two hours later as we began hobbling out of the Seireitei’s entertainment district. “We shoul’—we should do this again sometime, Yuki-chan.”

“Mmm, okay Ran-chan,” I agreed happily as I leaned against her side. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was actually her name—she’d mentioned it once, later on in the night, but the bar had been crowded and loud and I hadn’t been able to hear her clearly. Still, she had yet to correct me, so I figured the name was okay with her. It wasn’t like she’d gotten _my_ name right either, but Yuki was a pretty name and it reminded me a bit of Rukia, so I let it stay. Besides, there was something rather comforting about the anonymity of it all.

 The world swayed slightly for a moment and I took a moment to steady myself. “That wash a nice bar. So many pretty drinks,” I murmured, my words slurring together slightly. “So many colors. I like colors. They taste good.”

“Yup! And now we’re all colorful on the inside,” Ran giggled in delight, swinging me around. I lurched forward, almost tripping, before the blonde caught me with a laugh. “Oops! Careful there, you almost fell.”

“’m okay,” I assured her. Looking around, I noticed that we were nearing the Eleventh Division headquarters. “Where’re we going?”

“Tenth Division barracks. I live right aroun’ the corner,” she informed me cheerfully, before her eyes cleared for a moment as a flash of concern crossed her face. “Where do you live? I can walk you home, if you want?”

“There’s no need. I’ll be fine,” I said smiling faintly, even as something tugged at the edges of my memory. _Tenth division…that was meaningful somehow, there was something I was forgetting…_

Putting the thought out of my mind for now, I focused briefly on purifying and channeling reiatsu to my palms and pressed them to my head, speeding up my brain’s metabolism rate of alcohol until I could think relatively clearly again. “Healer,” I explained, motioning for her to lean down so I could do the same to her. “I never get drunk to the point where I can’t sober myself up.”

“Neat trick,” Ran said, clucking her tongue appreciatively as we reached the edges of the Tenth Division living quarters. “I guess this is where we part ways then?” A teasing smile crossed her lips. “Do I get a goodnight kiss, Yuki-chan?”

I snorted. “Go get some sleep, Ran-chan,” I said, pushing her towards the door.

“Mou, so bossy,” she complained as I kicked open the door.

“Comes with the job. While you’re at it though, drink some water, eat a snack, and whack that friend of yours on the head for me. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, grinning. “Same time, same place next week? I can tell you how it went, and you can finish telling me that story about how your brother once got a merchant to buy a bottle of water for 5000 kan by convincing him it was ‘elixir of youth.’”

For a moment, I hesitated—next Sunday Kukaku had wanted me to come over early in the morning since she’d wanted my opinion on a couple of new fireworks she was developing, and I was supposed to help Unohana organize a Squad 4 barbeque in the afternoon, not to mention I’d wanted to spend a few hours training with Kaien…but when it came down to it, there was no reason I couldn’t do all of that _and_ meet up with Ran, was there? It’d require a fair bit of micromanaging, but I’d never been someone to give up the opportunity to gain a new friend. Besides, I’d genuinely enjoyed Ran’s company tonight and she knew more interesting gossip than anyone I’d ever met—with the exception of maybe Yoruichi. Sunday may have been my only day off, but well…there’d be other days to rest.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, smiling.

 

* * *

 

“Had fun tonight?” Byakuya’s voice came from the trees behind me, tone unreadable. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“How long have you been following me?” I asked, already regretting not taking Ran’s offer to walk me home tonight. This confrontation…was not something I wanted to have at one in the morning, in a state of exhaustion, while knowing that I would need to get up in less than five hours.

“Not too long. I admit, when Shiba-fukutaicho came to find me and muttered something about how I should probably check up on you tonight, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. When I found you in that bar…well, you seemed fine, like you were having fun, but I figured I’d stick around anyway just to make sure. And it was a good thing I did.” He paused for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was thick was disapproval. “What were you thinking? I don’t care if you go out drinking with your friends, Hisana—I’d never presume to interfere in your social life—but never had I imagined I would find you stumbling home, _alone,_ after dark. Have you no concept of your own personal safety?”

“I can take care of myself just fine, Byakuya. You know that,” I said tightly, vaguely regretting that I’d mostly sobered up already. If there was ever a time where I wanted to be drunk, it was now. “Besides, I’ve headed back this way a dozen times now, both during the day and at night. I know my way around.” Hey, if the 12th was going to be open twenty-four hours a day, I figured I might as well take advantage of their late hours. Plus, less chance of running into Kurotsuchi-bastard that way.

“Just because nothing’s happened so far doesn’t mean that nothing’s ever going to happen,” he said sternly.

“And if something _does_ happen to me, I’ll take full responsibility for it. Either way, it’s none of your business,” I said sharply, feeling a headache start to come on. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to relax before turning on my heel and starting to walk away. If I stuck around for much longer…well, I’d probably start yelling at him and I _really_ didn’t want to deal with that today. “Goodnight Byakuya.”

“Why are you acting like this?” He asked, grabbing me by the shoulder and forcing me to face him. “You’re my closest friend Hisana, so if anything happens to you, of course it’s my business. You don’t…you don’t get to tell me I’m not allowed to care about you.”

“No, I don’t have that right. But _you_ don’t get to make decisions that directly affect me without talking to me first,” I snapped. A burning sensation began to form in the back of my throat—as if I’d inhaled a large amount of seawater—and I swallowed heavily, pushing down the wave of raw _hurt_ rising up within me.

“You’re angry with me,” Byakuya realized, pain flashing across his features. “I—Hisana, if I ever did something to cause you distress of any kind, please realize that it was never my intention. Just tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll--”

“When exactly were you going to tell me that you were conducting courtship negotiations with your clan?” I interrupted, voice hard. He froze for a moment before a shadow crossed his face.

“Who told you--”

“—does it matter?” I asked bitterly. “The point is that it wasn’t _you.”_

He flinched and I studied him closely. “Is it true, Byakuya?” _Tell me that it isn’t true. Tell me that you didn’t_ _keep something of this magnitude from me._ Please.

“You…you weren’t supposed to find out this way,” he said after a long moment of silence. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, turning away. Well, there was my answer.

_“Why?”_ I asked in disbelief. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me about this _before_ announcing your intentions to your clan? Do I really come across as so desperate that you didn’t even feel the need to ask me first? You just assumed that I’d be fine with it, that I’d want to be with you?” I shook my head, ignoring the stricken expression on his face.

“No!” He shouted, reaching out to grasp me by the wrists. “No, Hisana, I would never…I would never presume to take your choice from you. Listen to me,” Byakuya pleaded. “I—the reason I didn’t talk to you about this first was because I didn’t want to give you false hope, if it turned out that this was something you _did_ want. I didn’t want to promise you something I’d be unable to deliver later. As clan heir, my power is limited; and if enough of the elders opposed this…you deserve better than such an insecure relationship, Hisana, and I wanted to wait until things were a bit more certain…a bit more stable before bringing the subject up with you,” he rambled on desperately, the words almost tumbling over themselves in his rush to get them out. “It was never because I expected you to return my feelings, or felt entitled to your love, and I’m so, _so_ sorry I made you think that way. Of course, I had hoped…” Byakuya’s voice trailed off and his hands tightened momentarily around my own. “Hisana, if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want you to feel obliged to…to be with me. If this isn’t something that you want, just say the word, and I’ll never bother you about it again, I swear.”

I was silent for a long moment.

“And if it is? What happens if I do want this?” I asked softly, voice cracking. Stupid self-sacrificing _idiot_ —only he would risk utter humiliation by arguing for a courtship when he didn’t even know if I’d say _yes,_ just so he could potentially spare me some hurt feelings and trouble.

Although at this point, I’d have to be a brain-dead _fool_ to turn him down. Half the reason I was so hesitant in the first place was because I’d hated the thought of coming between him and his family, but if I already _had,_ albeit unwittingly, then there was nothing I could really do about it, could I? If I rejected him in the hopes that it might repair things between him and his clan, I’d be hurting him even more and that…that wasn’t even an option.

The other reason—well, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was terrified of screwing this up (Christina had never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months, school and work and responsibilities and _cancer_ getting in the way, something I’d once regretted but then felt relieved for because that meant one less person to grieve). But no matter what happened, things were going to change after tonight anyway. And if the original Hisana could make things work while dealing with a missing sister and a terminal illness no less, then so could I.

Cautious hope flashed across Byakuya’s face—fragile, unsure, but so _raw_ my heart ached from the sight of it. “ _If_ you were to agree,” he began haltingly. “Then I’d…I’d do everything in my power to prove myself worthy of your regard, so that you never have cause to regret this. I’d promise to protect you and care for you and spend the rest of my li--” His cut himself off, voice heavy with emotion, and my breath caught as he sank to his knees in front of me. “Please. Let me court you. I’m so _tired_ of pretending, Hisana.” He gazed up at me, gray eyes earnest and sincere. “Let me show the world how much you mean to me, how much I lo—mmph!”

Byakuya let out a startled grunt as I tackled him to the floor, pausing only to reach up and grasp the front of his yukata before kissing him, hard, on the mouth. Pulling back before he had a chance to respond, I looked down to find stunned, gray eyes staring back at me.

“You were taking too long,” I informed him. When Byakuya’s expression stayed frozen, I leaned down and peered at him in concern. In retrospect, initiating a surprise make-out session probably wasn’t the best idea and I cursed myself internally—goddammit, I’d _seen_ how he’d responded to Mai the second time we’d met (and I was pretty sure he’d almost gone into shock that one time I took him to the red light district), what if I broke him by accident? Fuckity fuck fuck, _that_ was going to be fun to explain _._ “That’s a yes, by the way,” I added somewhat worriedly, after another ten seconds had gone by without him saying a word.

That seemed to break him out of his stupor, because he let out a breathless laugh, wild happiness diffusing across his face before he reached up to cup my face in his hands.

“You mean that?” He whispered. “I want this, more than anything, but I want you to be sure.”

“I think I’ve made my decision pretty clear. For better or for worse, you’re stuck with me now,” I said, one side of my lips curving up in an involuntary smile.

There was one thing though…

“But no super-expensive gifts,” I said hastily. “We had an arrangement, Byakuya. I don’t know much about noble courting rituals, but I can guess some of it, and I swear to god, if you get me some pendant worth half a dozen mansions or a Seaweed Ambassador figure carved out of gold--”

Byakuya cut me off with a kiss, slow and sweet and deep and _meticulous_. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of my mouth—heat and wetness and a hint of jasmine tea all melded together, drawing an involuntary whine from my throat—before he withdrew with one last languid sweep of his tongue against my bottom lip. I blinked dazedly for several moments before snapping out of it, and proceeded to glare at him fiercely, ignoring the red-hot flush crawling up my cheeks. He was staring at me contently through half-lidded eyes, a ridiculously smug expression on his face.

“You—you—don’t think you’ve managed to distract me!” I scowled, trying very hard not to think about the lingering taste of tea in my mouth. “I mean it, if you get me something like that, I’ll just spend all of my time worrying about somehow breaking it, or getting robbed, or…or…”

“Relax, Hisana,” Byakuya chuckled lazily, leaning up to gently press his forehead against mine. “You know me. Now, would I do something like that?”

 

* * *

 

“Apparently the answer is yes, he would totally do something like this. Goddamn rich bastard,” I grumbled, holding up the shimmering pale pink scarf I’d found waiting for me outside my door when I woke up this morning. After inspecting it a bit closer, I discovered a delicately-embroidered cherry-blossom motif running up one side of the scarf and the Kuchiki clan symbol on the other. “Subtlety, thy name is not Kuchiki Byakuya,” I muttered grouchily, in an attempt to ignore the rush of warmth spreading through my chest.

_He is only staking his claim, as is proper,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa primly. _And have you forgotten that you cannot fool me? Don’t even bother pretending that you’re upset._

_‘Staking his claim’? What is this, the Stone Age?_ I asked in disbelief, choosing to ignore the second part of her statement.

_It is a statement. He is showing you that he will not hide this courtship, and that he is not ashamed of you,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa explained, sounding exasperated that she even had to clarify this.

_Oh,_ I said softly. _Well, in that case…_

I was just debating where to wear it—between physical training and working at the Fourth, there was no way I was wearing it around my neck where it could get dirty (I seriously doubted I could afford the cost of dry cleaning to wash this thing)—when there was a knock at my door.

“Hisana-san! Are you in there? We’re going to be late!” Isane called out frantically.

“Coming!” I called out, opening the door and stepping out. “Sorry about that, I was just--” I paused when I realized that Isane was frozen in place with a shell-shocked expression, eyes locked on the Kuchiki insignia sewn into my new scarf.

“Is that—Kuchiki—what?” She squeaked.

 I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my eyes tiredly. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura, the next time your boyfriend tries to murder me via sharp flower petals, I would appreciate it if you didn’t stand around gawking for a good five minutes before stepping in,” Kaien said grumpily. I winced.

“Um, in my defense, that was my first time seeing Byakuya go into shikai and…well, you have to admit that Senbonzakura’s power is incredible to see,” I said defensively. “It’s a beautiful shikai.”

“Not so much on the receiving end. Ugh, it was like getting a thousand paper cuts at once,” he whined, rolling up his sleeve to reveal dozens of small, thin cuts. I winced again—I mean, it wasn’t my fault Byakuya had put two and two together and figured out that Kaien was the one to tell me about the whole courtship thing, but a part of me felt responsible anyway.

“I _am_ sorry about that,” I said apologetically, gently taking his arm. The cuts were already beginning to seal over and I hummed, sending a wave of healing reiatsu through his skin to speed the process along.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, Yukimura-san,” a gentle voice said from the doorway. I looked up to see Miyako enter the room, along with Kukaku and an irritated-looking black cat.

“He deserves it anyway,” Yoruichi snorted, flicking her tail at Kaien dismissively, ignoring the wounded noise he let out. “I’m actually surprised Byakuya-bou wasn’t _more_ pissed off after this idiot here spilled the beans. He had the whole thing planned out, you know? A picnic in a private garden, your favorite foods prepared—he even wrote a speech. I should know, I was the one he practiced it on.”

I choked back a laugh, hastily wiping my eyes when I felt them get alarmingly wet. “Did he? Oversentimental idiot.”

“Mmm. He really cares for you, you know,” she said, eyes sharpening. “I’m glad to see the feeling is mutual.” I didn’t know how Yoruichi was able to simultaneously convey both a warning and approval, but I nodded to show I understood.

“I am…incredibly lucky to have him,” I said softly, looking down at my hands.

“Well, now that we’ve established that my brother is an idiot, I say it’s about damn time you and Kuchiki got together,” Kukaku huffed. “If I had to suffer through another day of watching you two morons pine pathetically over each other, forget spilling the beans, I’d have locked the two of you into a closet until you talked things through…or until you two started banging like rabbits, whichever came first.” I flushed tomato-red and Kukaku smirked lazily at me. “Come on, even you have to admit that the sexual tension between you two was overwhelming.”

“Kukaku-san!” I protested hotly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miyako hide a smile behind her hand. Traitor. Everyone else in this room was an awful, awful person who got off on other peoples’ humiliation, but I’d thought I could count on _her,_ at least.

“No need to deny it. We’re all adults here,” she purred, slinging an arm around my shoulders and ignoring my attempts to squirm away with insulting ease. “Now, tell your Kukaku-nee-san—what exactly happened after my dearest brother fucked up?”

“Stuff,” I said unhelpfully. Like hell I was going to tell her that I went out alone to a seedy bar, got drunk, and ended up fake-dating a random girl for the night. I mean, things turned out all right and Ran-chan was amazing, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you admitted to.

“Nuh-uh, you’re going to have to do better than that. Partly because I’m dreadfully curious, but also because I have a lot of money riding on this,” Kukaku said, grip tightening on my arm.

“Wait, you guys _bet_ on this--?” I squawked indignantly, standing up to leave.

“Of course we did. Now tell me; who kissed who first?” She asked, eyes gleaming. “Be honest, and we won’t have to go after Kuchiki to find out the details.” I sat back down. The last thing I wanted was for this band of she-demons to go after Byakuya. The image of a wounded fish surrounded by a school of sharks came to mind.

“I bet it was Kuchiki. Was it Kuchiki? He seems like he would,” Kaien interrupted, joining in on the conversation. I resisted the urge to throw a shoe at him. This was so unfair. I didn’t recall there being this much of a fuss over him and _Miyako_ getting together. And I certainly never bet on _his_ love life. So why the hell was he intruding in mine?

“I feel like one of them just ended up tackling the other to the ground and they started making out like the sexually-repressed, hormonal teenagers that they are,” Yoruichi said, grinning at my discomfort. I winced internally.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Miyako spoke up, coming to my defense.

“Um…well actually,” I said meekly, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. My face felt flaming hot by now. Goddammit, Byakuya better appreciate this.

“ _No…_ really?” Kaien asked in disbelief.

“I really didn’t think that Kuchiki-fukutaicho would—I mean, he seems like such a gentleman,” Miyako murmured in surprise.

“It’s true that _he_ wouldn’t,” I mumbled weakly. Yoruichi started cackling and somehow, impossibly, I felt my face heat up even more. “Although, it wasn’t a _tackle,_ more of a…slight push?” Judging by their expressions, I didn’t think they bought it. Hell, _I_ didn’t even buy it. Yoruichi started cackling harder, with Kaien joining in this time.

Kukaku whistled appreciatively, ignoring her guffawing brother next to her.

“Damn, girl. You knew what you wanted, and you took it. I can respect that,” she said, nodding in satisfaction as Miyako looked on with an amused smile on her face. “Good for you.”

“So glad to see I have your approval,” I said sourly. “Now, if that’s all, I really have to--”

“No, no, stay,” Yoruichi insisted. “I hardly ever get the opportunity to meet with you nowadays, and besides, there’s one more thing Kukaku and I wanted to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” I asked warily. Yoruichi’s expression sobered up and she glanced at where Kaien and Miyako were sitting.

“Fukui-san, Shiba-fukutaicho, I apologize, but do you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Oh, not at all!” Miyako said, tugging Kaien up by the arm. “We should be going anyway. Thank you for taking such good are of him, Yukimura-san, I appreciate it,” she said warmly before pulling him out the door. Yoruichi waited until the sound of footsteps faded down the hall before turning to where I was eyeing her in vague trepidation.

“No need to look so nervous, Kukaku and I just wanted to talk to you about some logistics now that you and Kuchiki are official,” Yoruichi began briskly.

“Certain things will be expected of you now, as I’m sure you know,” Kukaku added. “Kuchiki’s paved part of the road for you. It’s my understanding that he’s convinced the majority of his elders that you’re a…worthy investment, but many are still hesitant. I assume that getting along with his family is an important goal to you?”

“Yes, of course,” I answered quickly. A flash of approval crossed Kukaku’s face.

“Luckily for you, Yoruichi and I are here to help. Now normally, we might not bother with this, but we _do_ want you and lover-boy to be happy, which means that you need to be able to pass for a noble. It won’t be an easy task, starting over, especially since you’re from a poorer district of the Rukongai, but you seem decent at adapting. Of course, we’ll need to get rid of any bad habits you have, and you’ll need to cut all ties with your hometown or else you won’t stand a chance --”

“No,” I said quietly, cutting her off mid-sentence as I realized where this conversation was going. Kukaku blinked.

“Excuse me?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, I won’t cut ties with my family and friends in Inuzuri,” I said a bit louder, looking at her steadily.

“Don’t be foolish Hisana-chan; do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position right now? To escape from the Rukongai for good and jump straight to one of the most prestigious positions in our society?” Yoruichi asked, waving me off dismissively. “I know you’re not with Byakuya for the money or the power, but you could at least _try_ to be someone his clan would approve of, couldn’t you? Or were you lying earlier, when you said that you wanted to get along with his family?” My lips thinned.

“I’ve accepted who I am, and I won’t change myself just to suit someone else’s wishes,” I said stiffly, before turning towards Kukaku. “You said I was good at adapting, but the thing about spending time with people who are different from you is that you let the parts of yourself that can complement them—that can _connect_ with them—come to the surface. That doesn’t mean you _throw away_ the other parts. It’s all about maintaining a balance—fitting in enough so that you _belong,_ but retaining enough of your identity so that you’re still you _,_ still _unique,_ and not some doppelganger that can only copy those around it. If you’re still offering, Shihouin-taicho, Kukaku-san, I will gladly take any advice you give me on etiquette, dress code, proper speech, and whatever else is expected in polite company—I understand that there will be situations where I may be required to put on my best behavior, so to speak. But with all due respect, I’m Rukongai, my family is Rukongai, the Rukongai has made me who I am today, and I won’t hide from that.”

“Even if it means Byakuya’s family will never accept you?” Yoruichi asked, a shrewd glint in her eyes. “They might be more inclined to forgive your background, should you make an honest attempt to shed it. I thought you would have jumped at the opportunity to reduce Byakuya’s burden.” I forced myself not to flinch.

“I sincerely hope that cutting ties with my roots is not the only way to win them over, but if it is, then so be it,” I said calmly. “Byakuya’s accepted me for who I am, and his opinion is the only one that matters in this case.” For a moment, I hesitated, before continuing on. “Perhaps it _is_ selfish of me to put him in this position, to not do everything I can to make this easier on him, but if it means trying to be a different person…” My voice trailed off. “I think I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t want me to…to force myself to be someone I’m not. He asked to court me, knowing full well that I grew up a commoner. I trust him to know what he’s doing.” By the end, my hands were shaking slightly, but I forced myself to keep my chin up and my voice steady. Now wasn’t the time to doubt myself.

There was a long period of silence, before Kukaku turned to Yoruichi with a small smile.

“Pride. Now that’s something we can work with,” she murmured.

“Mmm. The noblest trait of them all,” Yoruichi said wryly. “Congratulations, Hisana-chan. You passed.”

“Eh?” I blinked in confusion. “Wait a second—this was a _test?”_ I asked indignantly, before the implications of that hit me. “What were you even testing _for?”_

Kukaku and Yoruichi glanced at each other. “To see if you had what it took to stand up to that council of wrinkly old farts,” Kukaku said bluntly. “Right now, the greatest weakness in your relationship is your fear of coming between Byakuya and his family. We wanted to see if your self-respect and integrity, as well as your trust in Byakuya would hold up to that.”

“So basically you made sure I was worthy of Byakuya…by proving that there are some things I hold more important than his happiness?” I asked disbelievingly. Yoruichi shook her head.

“You’re still not getting it. You _are_ his happiness. Doing his duty, making his family proud—that’s all well and good, but it’s not what makes him smile and laugh at the end of the day. We wanted to make sure that this relationship and the pressure it’ll place on you wouldn’t break you, both for your sake and his. What you said just now did a lot to assure us that it won’t. After all, how can you expect to survive in a noble clan without having pride in yourself?”

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura-san, you know that I, um, respect you greatly, but I have to ask—why exactly are we going to this much trouble to sneak through the Fifth Div--”

“Shhh,” I hissed, peeking around another corner before deciding it was relatively safe. “Not now Tsukuda-san, I’ll explain once we’re out of here.”

Grabbing her wrist, I proceeded to half-sprint, half-tiptoe my way to the exit, ignoring the weird looks I was getting. Mere seconds from escaping enemy territory, I reached out, my hand inches from the door and freedom—

“Hisana-chan!”

Tsukuda let out an _eep_ as I stumbled forward, releasing her hand in shock as a heavy weight fell against my back. Arms wrapped tightly around my chest like a pair of boa-constrictors and I briefly closed my eyes in resignation.

_Fuck._ And I was so close too.

“How delightful—ya know, I _do_ think this is the first time I’ve seen ya here?” Gin continued, still draped over me like some sort of demented limpet.

“And if I have anything to say about it, it’ll be the last,” I muttered sourly, grumpily noting the way the hallway cleared suspiciously fast as soon as Gin entered the picture. _Lucky bastards._ “How did you even know I was _here_? I _know_ I was suppressing my reiatsu.”

“Lucky coincidence. I was just on my way ta the bathroom when who should I see but my favorite healer?” He grinned, arms tightening a fraction. “Ya didn’t expect me to let ya go without at least sayin’ hello, did ya? That would be awfully rude of me.”

“Yes, well, hello to you too. Now would you please let go of me?” I asked testily. “ _Some_ of us have things to do and I really must be going.”

“Oh, ya mean handin’ out these?” Gin asked, snatching up the folder of medical checkup reminders I was holding and promptly began flipping through it. I let out a resigned sigh while Tsukuda let out a squeak at his sudden movement. “Can’t Squeaky over there take care of it? Kinda a waste of resources ta have two healers do such a simple task in the first place, in my opinion.” Maybe, but Tsukuda wasn’t entirely comfortable with delivering papers to a different division by herself. I would’ve just taken over her job, but then again _I_ wasn’t comfortable with wandering around in the Fifth Division by myself. Some backup was better than none, after all, for all the good it did me.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Ichimaru-san,” I said flatly. “Besides, her name is _Tsukuda Ayame,_ and she asked me--”

“It’s fine, Hisana-chan, don’t get so worked up over it,” he chuckled, before glancing at Tsukuda. I stiffened as his grin sharpened a fraction. “Besides, Squeaky doesn’t mind delivering the papers by herself. Do you, little mouse?”

Tsukuda froze upon suddenly finding herself the subject of Gin’s full attention, her face paling. She swallowed, eyes flickering between me and the door, clearly wanting to flee but unwilling to leave me behind either. 

“You really have got ta stop coddling your people, Hisana-chan,” Gin continued conversationally as he turned back to me, shifting so that he was standing next to me while keeping one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. “Squeaky’s a grown girl, she should learn ta take care of herself. For her ta need her _kouhai_ ta hold her hand? That’s just pathetic.”

“ _Ichimaru,”_ I warned as Tsukuda paled even further, her face now an unhealthy-looking ashen grey.

“What? It’s the truth. No wonder you’re so overworked, if ya have people like Squeaky dependin’ on ya left and right,” he said, reaching over with his free hand and swiping at the faint circles under my eyes. I swatted him away irritably, glaring at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with helping other people out. And for your information, I _volunteered_ to give Tsukuda-san a hand, so don’t go accus--”

“No, it’s okay Yukimura-san,” Tsukuda interrupted, the painfully fake smile on her lips doing nothing to hide the shame in her eyes. “I—I really should be able to do something like this by myself. Thanks for offering to help me, but I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Glad ya came to your senses, Squeaky,” Gin chirped, holding out the folder to her. “After all, I’d hate to find out that someone was takin’ advantage of Hisana-chan just ‘cause she’s too nice ta say no. I’m sure you understand.”

“O-of course,” Tsukuda stuttered, a stricken expression on her face even as I gaped at Gin, too stunned by his _audacity_ to respond. “I a-apologize, Yukimura-san. I never meant to cause you any trouble.” With that, she turned and fled out the door before I could do more than call out a weak protest.

“Huh. That was easier than I expected it ta be.” Gin’s musing broke me out of my thoughts. “I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to willingly leave ya alone with me, but then again, a little guilt-tripping goes a long way. Still, I was hoping for a _little_ more of a challenge.”

“ _What is wrong with you?”_ I snapped, twisting out of his hold. “She’ll probably avoid me for days now, just because she’ll be worried about somehow ‘inconveniencing’ me!” Dimly, I acknowledged that it took some serious skill for Gin to be able to twist ‘asking for a tiny favor’ into ‘look how much of a burden you are, you should be ashamed of yourself, you horrible person,’ but I ignored the thought.

“Why is that a bad thing? Now ya don’t have ta deal with her incessant whining. If anything, you should be thankin’ me for getting rid of her.” At my darkening glare, Gin sighed exasperatedly. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that ya actually _like_ her, Hisana-chan. What a meek, pathetic little thing…in hindsight, maybe it was too generous of me ta call her a mouse. She’s really more of a worm, ya know? No backbone.”

For a moment, I seriously considered throwing caution and decorum out the window just to stab him. I was fairly sure the satisfaction of doing so would far outweigh the possible consequences (getting arrested for attacking a superior outside of a spar wouldn’t be _too_ bad, would it?). Only the slight widening of his smile as my hand twitched towards my sword stopped me.

Like _hell_ I was going to let him play me like one of his pawns. Instead, I took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned a forcibly calm smile in Gin’s direction.

“We must have very different ways of looking at people then, Ichimaru-san,” I said tonelessly before narrowing my eyes. “You may accuse me of coddling my people, but that’s the thing—they’re _mine._ Don’t toy with them again.”

“Well now, that’s just not fair. I should get somethin’ out of this too,” Gin pouted. “How about we make a deal? I stop messin’ with them—assuming that they’re not stupid enough ta mess with me first—if you stop runnin’ away every time I get within a hundred feet of you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

“Don’t play dumb, Hisana-chan, it doesn’t suit ya,” he scolded me. “You have some interestin’ evasion techniques, I have to admit. The sewers? Really?”

“Hmph. Don’t flatter yourself—just because I don’t always feel like dealing with the headache that inevitably comes with spending time with you, doesn’t mean that I was ‘running away,’” I scowled. “But fine. I agree to stop avoiding you.” That was okay, the deal didn’t cover masking my reiatsu. If he couldn’t find me in the first place, then that was his problem, not mine. ‘Hiding’ wasn’t the same thing as ‘avoiding’, after all.

Still, this was a bit… _too_ easy. Eying him carefully, I added, “You’re being awfully accommodating about this.” He shrugged.

“To be perfectly honest with you, your colleagues weren’t much fun ta play with anyway. Too easy, hardly anyone provided a challenge. It got dreadfully boring after a while. Still, they did provide some entertainment once in a blue moon, which is a shame ta give up…good thing I have you now ta make up for it, huh?” Great. So in Ichimaru-ese, that was basically ‘keep me interested and I’ll uphold my part of the deal, but if I get too bored, no promises.’

“Oh wait, I almost forgot. I have somethin’ I’ve been meaning ta give you,” Gin said abruptly, before flash-stepping away. Two minutes later, he was back with a large bag that he thrust under my nose. Taking it without thinking, I glanced up to see Gin looking expectantly at me.

“What’s this?” I asked curiously, opening the bag to peer inside.

“A little congratulatory present. Figured you’d need it,” Gin said cheerfully as I began choking at the sight of…holy shit, was that a _dildo?_ Multiple dildos? And… _six_ different kinds of lube?

“Wasn’t sure what you and Kuchiki were into, so I included some of my favorites,” Gin said casually and _wow,_ that was more than I ever wanted to know about Ichimaru Gin’s sex life. I put that thought out of my mind before my brain broke trying to process that _and_ the wide assortment of lube, silk scarves ( _blindfolds,_ some horrible part of my mind supplied unhelpfully), rope, candles (what?), condoms, and scary-looking sex toys before me. There was even a small knife included, which… _what the actual fuck._

“I—what—no?” I croaked out, feeling simultaneously like someone had doused my face in gasoline before setting it on fire and like I was on the verge of going into cardiac arrest.

“Don’t be shy, we’re all adults here,” Gin said, leering at me. “Of course, if Kuchiki turns out to be as much of a vanilla prude as he looks and you’re feelin’ curious, I’d be happy ta try them out wi—urk!”

I calmly withdrew my fingers from where I jabbed them into his throat before stalking away to fill out yet another harassment form. The first eight or so didn’t really accomplish anything, but maybe the ninth one would succeed where the others hadn’t. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again, right?

* * *

 

Interlude

“Somethin’ funny?” Shinji asked, eyeing his lieutenant with a mixture of bemusement and wariness. Aizen was normally the picture of efficient professionalism, and so to see him chuckling over what appeared to be _paperwork,_ of all things…

Aizen glanced over, a faint glint of humor in his eyes.

“It’s a harassment report filed by one of the Fourth Division members,” he replied, one side of his lips quirking up. “Her ninth, actually. I’m fairly certain she’s just doing this as stress relief by now.”

“Her…ninth?” Shinji asked, feeling more than a little confused. Harassment reports weren’t exactly _fun_ to write, and for someone to fill out _nine_ of them…

“Mmm. Not that I can blame her, if Gin’s done half the things she’s claimed he’s done,” Aizen said, lips twitching. Shinji resisted the urge to groan. Of course it was Gin. It was _always_ Gin. To this day, he still had no idea how his lieutenant managed to convince him to take on that troublesome brat as his third seat (although the fact that he’d been fiercely hungover that day probably had something to do with it _stupid Kyoraku and his stupid drinking challenges),_ but he’d regretted that decision every day since. If it weren’t for the fact that he felt some sort of vague responsibility over keeping an eye on the demented little psychopath and making sure he didn’t do anything _too_ awful, he’d have shipped him off to another division years ago.

Still, despite the fact that Shinji was well aware of Gin’s more…unsavory habits, he _was_ surprised to hear that some girl from the Fourth had filled out _nine_ of them. Normally people didn’t have the balls to actually call Gin out on his behavior, even behind his back. Gin had a tendency to find out about such things and while Shinji never had any _proof_ of his third seat doing anything extreme, there was no way it was just coincidence that all of Gin’s enemies ended up with rather unfortunate fates.

“Who’s the girl?” Shinji asked, feeling a bit curious now despite himself.

“See for yourself,” Aizen said, tossing the report over. “Oh, but I _am_ going to need that back, taicho. I promised Gin I’d let him have it after I was done reading it.”

“Wait—he _knows_ about these?” Shinji asked disbelievingly. The implied ‘ _and he hasn’t scared her off or dealt her irreparable psychological harm?’_ went unsaid.

“Oh yes.” Aizen’s smile widened. Shinji didn’t like it. “Gin’s rather proud of them, actually. He’s starting quite the collection.” With that, he sauntered off, leaving Shinji to look at the report by himself. Glancing at the right corner of the page, he took in the sight of the writer’s name written in small, meticulous kanji.

“Yukimura Hisana,” he murmured, pouring himself a cup of tea (he had to give Aizen this—there was never a shortage of tea with that man around). The name rang a bell, although Shinji couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before. Deciding to think on it later, he turned the page—

_Describe the nature of your complaint. Please include as much detail as possible: While the disturbing amount of interest Fifth Division third seat Ichimaru Gin has in fake penises and bondage is none of my business—_

\--and promptly choked on his tea. Several minutes of coughing and almost hacking up a lung later (during which he developed a new sympathy for Ukitake), Shinji finally recovered enough to continue skimming through the report with increasing incredulity.

_I would greatly appreciate it if something could be done to prevent him from propositioning me with various sexual instruments as I have no interest in catching any amount of unpleasant STDs or worse, whatever it is that makes Ichimaru Gin_ Ichimaru Gin. _To be perfectly frank, I would rather commit seppuku than risk the latter._

The rest of the report went on in much the same way, a mixture of dry wit ( _‘there are several brothels in the Rukongai I can suggest if Ichimaru—or any other Fifth Division member—is having trouble finding willing participants’),_ acerbic insults, and rather explicit threats barely disguised by clinically polite words. Shinji was rather impressed with _‘should this behavior continue, I would be happy to attempt curing his obsession with gifting me phallic devices by simultaneously inserting them all into his rectal cavity. As a healer, I would do my best to prevent any permanent damage from accidentally occurring—although this possibility is unlikely, as the human body is incredibly resilient when it comes to recovering from physical trauma.’_  He mentally translated that passage as 'the next time Ichimaru does this, I'm shoving multiple dildos up his ass and I won't be careful about it either,' and barely suppressed a snort.

The last question—what is your suggested remedy in this complaint?—contained only a short response: _As I have deemed the space provided for this question to be inadequate, I have taken the liberty of attaching another sheet of paper to this report._

Feeling an odd mix of trepidation and anticipation, Shinji flipped the page and found himself looking at a…cartoon?

It _was_ a cartoon, Shinji realized upon looking closer and discovering what looked like a chibi-fied version of his third seat with x-ed out eyes tied from neck to toe in rope, so that he looked like some kind of deformed worm. The next frame had him packed into a _fucking canon_ of all things, next to a drawing of a cackling chibi-fied girl with long hair dancing around and holding a lit match. Shinji didn’t have to be a genius to guess that the cartoon girl was probably meant to represent Yukimura, although why she was dancing on a pile of dango skewers and money bags, he had no idea. The third frame showed the chibi-Gin shooting into the sky, disappearing into the distance. The fourth and final frame showed the chibi-Gin landing face-first in a pre-dug grave in front of a headstone, a sign saying ‘80th District- West Rukongai’ next to it.

At the bottom of the page, written in the same meticulously neat handwriting as the rest of the report, was another note: _Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you take my suggestions into account when coming up with a solution. I have confidence that with the proper intervention, this kind of behavior can be prevented from occurring again in the future._

Shaking his head, Shinji let out a reluctant chuckle. _If only all reports were as…interesting to read,_ he thought to himself in amusement. At least he understood now why his third seat kept making excuses to head over to the Fourth Division this year. He must have been delighted to find someone who so blatantly refused to be intimidated by him.

As if summoned by Shinji’s thoughts, at that moment the door creaked open to reveal a familiar head of silver hair. Gin peered in, his expression brightening at the sight of the packet in Shinji’s hands.

“Is that Hisana-chan’s report?” He asked gleefully. “Aizen-fukutaicho said he’d lent it to ya. How was it?”

“It was…entertainin’,” Shinji admitted. “Haven’t had anyone include cartoons in an official report before.”

“Yeah, she does that. Last time she drew me as a scarecrow that she was peltin’ with tomatoes,” Gin said cheerfully. “She always has the best reactions.”

“Ya know, there _are_ better ways of makin’ friends than pissin’ someone off to the point where they have vivid fantasies about murderin’ ya,” Shinji drawled, smirking as he took a moment to imagine the girl’s no doubt horrified expression were she to hear his insinuation that she and Gin were anything approaching friends.

“Ah, but taicho, where’s the fun in that?” Gin asked sunnily. “Besides, she’s just playin’. This is her way of bein’ friendly.”

Shinji sent his third seat a dubious look, before shaking his head. Honestly, he didn’t know whether to pity Yukimura Hisana or not. On the one hand, Gin was unlikely be as cruel towards someone who he thought had entertainment value. On the other hand…she somehow managed to catch the attention of _Ichimaru Gin,_ which meant that he wouldn’t leave her alone until he got bored of her, something that could take anywhere from days to years _._ In the end, Shinji settled for feeling satisfied over the fact that at least one other person had to suffer the human headache that was the perpetually-smiling fox-faced third seat. Hey, he never claimed to be above pettiness.


	25. Chapter 25

“Would you _stay still,_ already?” I snapped out, shoving a certain bald idiot back in the hospital bed.

“I told you, I’m fine! I don’t need your help!” Ikkaku growled at me.

“Fine? _Fine?!”_ I could hear my voice rising as I waved around a pair of tweezers. “Look at you! You have half a shattered tree stuck in your backside! You are _not_ fine!”

“Ow!” Ikkaku yelped as I not-so-gently yanked out yet another piece of wood from beneath his skin. “Shit! Leggo of me, woman!”

“Splinters! Blood!” I continued, ignoring his protests. “I don’t even want to know how you managed this...”

“It’s not _my_ fault a hollow threw me through a tree hard enough that it broke around me,” Ikkaku muttered sullenly.

“And I can’t say that I blame it, if you caused it even half the amount of frustration you give me every time you open your mouth,” I said flatly, picking out another splinter and healing the punctured skin with a wave of healing reiatsu. Ikkaku scowled.

“Why are you just yelling at _me?_ How come you aren’t scolding Yumi?” He grumbled. I glanced towards the corner of the room where Yumichika was casually lounging in a chair, reading a book. At the sound of his name, he looked up, quirking an eyebrow at his friend’s predicament.

“Because _Ayasegawa-san_ hasn’t tried to escape three times in the past hour. He also _listened to me_ and what do you know? I finished treating him in a quarter of the time it’s taking me to heal you. You could learn a thing or two from him,” I said primly.

“That’s not fair. You promised to let him give you a makeover if he didn’t give you any trouble,” Ikkaku said sulkily.

“Sitting still is a small price to pay for such a prize,” Yumichika smiled, walking over to where I was picking the last pieces of wood out of Ikkaku’s back. “Not that you aren’t lovely the way you are, Yukimura,” he added hurriedly, “But I could transform you into something stunning, if you give me the chance.”

“Stunning, huh?” I laughed slightly, shaking my head. “Well I suppose if anyone could manage such a feat, it’d be you. Thank you for the cream you gave me, by the way. It works wonders on the skin.” I usually wasn’t one for cosmetics, but I’d gotten tired of people sending me concerned looks and had decided to do something about it. Honestly, I didn’t see what the big deal was—this was a world where deadly battles were considered commonplace, so why were people getting so worked up about me looking a little tired? If I was human, maybe there would be some cause for concern—but souls were resilient. A few all-nighters every now and then wasn’t going to kill me.

Yumichika waved me off dismissively. “It was no inconvenience. I’m happy to help.” He paused for a second, a shrewd look entering his eyes. “Although, the best remedy for bags under the eyes is an adequate amount of sleep, I’ve found,” he added pointedly.

“Not to mention, how the hell are you gonna keep up with proper training if you’re going around half-asleep all the time?” Ikkaku interjected gruffly. “Your sword skills are sad enough as it is.” I sent him a sardonic look.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said noncommittally, after a pause. Sleeping an average of four hours a night wasn’t _ideal,_ certainly, but it wasn’t like Ukitake’s illness was going to research itself. Besides, I had a pretty good idea of exactly how much my body could take before it failed me, and I still had a decent amount of wiggle room.

“Really,” I added, when it looked like they were going to protest further. Deciding a distraction was in order, I stepped back and cleaned the tweezers off with some rubbing alcohol and a cloth. “You’re free to go, Madarame-san.”

“Wait, really?” Ikkaku asked, springing up. I nodded.

“See what happens when you cooperate?” I asked with a faint smile. “Now shoo, and be more careful next time, will you? I don’t want to see either of your faces here again for a while.”

“No promises,” Ikkaku said, hopping off the bed. “Although I _will_ try to keep from comin’ back here. This place is boring as fuck; I don’t see how you can stand it.”

“Don’t be rude, Ikkaku,” Yumichika chided, cuffing the back of Ikkaku’s head. “It’s impolite to insult another person’s occupation, especially when they’re the reason your backside no longer resembles a deformed porcupine. Something that I, for one, am grateful for, as porcupines aren’t exactly the most pleasant creatures to look at. Especially a porcupine with your face.”

“Wait, are you calling me _ugly?!_ Yumi, you--! _”_ Ikkaku sputtered, even as Yumichika grasped his arm and firmly led him out of the room.

I shook my head exasperatedly, turning around to begin stripping the beds. As I was stuffing the dirty sheets in the laundry hamper, a familiar reiatsu presence approaching the door made me pause.

“Unohana-taicho keeping you busy, huh?” Kaien asked from the doorway.

“No more than usual,” I replied with a smile, stepping forward to greet him. “What are you doing here, Shiba-fukutaicho?” He grinned, one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Ah, technically I’m not supposed to be? But apparently some new information’s come to light about Ukitake-taicho’s illness, and well…what kind of lieutenant would I be if I didn’t show up to support him?”

“One who manages to turn his paperwork in on time?” I teased, choosing to ignore the first part of this answer. Kaien squawked indignantly.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I finished all of my paperwork before coming here,” he huffed. “I wouldn’t use this as an excuse to slack off, you know--”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Both Kaien and I whirled around to see Unohana and Ukitake walking towards us. “Kaien, I thought I told you that there was no need for you to come here,” Ukitake said, an exasperatedly fond look in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kaien said, waving him off before hastily continuing. “So is it good news or bad news? Are you getting better? Did the Twelfth finally get off their asses and discover a new drug or something that could help? You…you’re not getting worse, are you?” There was a flash of genuine fear in his eyes and I swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on a private moment.

“Don’t worry, Shiba-fukutaicho. As far as I can tell, Ukitake-taicho’s condition has not worsened in any way,” Unohana said gently. “One of my healers simply came up with a rather interesting theory in regards to the cause of his illness, which has opened up several new avenues of treatment. Having looked at the evidence myself, I admit it’s rather plausible.” There was a moment of silence, before Kaien lurched forward.

“Really?” Kaien whispered hoarsely, disbelief mingled with a trace of desperate hope in his eyes. “Are you serious? How…what is it?”

“As much as I would like to discuss this further, I think we should move this conversation to a more private setting,” she said, with a pointed glance towards the direction of her office.

“Of-of course,” Kaien murmured distractedly. Unohana smiled softly.

“Wonderful. Now, as you are the Thirteenth Division’s lieutenant, both Ukitake-taicho and I have agreed that you have the right to know about the treatment he will be receiving, so that you will be better equipped to deal with his needs. Hisana, will you keep Ukitake-taicho company in the meantime?”

I agreed hesitantly, absently wondering what the hell I was supposed to do to entertain a captain for the next half hour or so. I’d talked to Ukitake a few times, but it wasn’t like I was as familiar with him as Otoribashi or Yoruichi. Seeming to sense my uncertainty, Ukitake smiled reassuringly at me once Unohana and Kaien left.

“Would you mind taking a walk with me, Yukimura-san?” He requested.

“I would love to, Ukitake-taicho,” I answered politely, before pausing. “Would you like a tour of our training grounds? They’re…probably not as impressive as you’re used to, since Squad Four is a largely non-combative division, but they’re pretty quiet. Not a whole lot of people go to them.”

“I would like that very much,” he said, eyes warm. “Lead the way, Yukimura-san.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, it took all of two minutes for me to regret my decision.

“Oh no,” I moaned, staring in horror at the mannequins propped up in the middle of the field. “I totally forgot about those. I am so sorry Ukitake-taicho, I’ll remove them immediately--”

“No need to apologize, Yukimura-san,” Ukitake said lightly, striding up to the only decorated dummy. He leaned down to get a better look, studying it with interest. “Is this supposed to represent Ichimaru-san, from Squad Five?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?” I asked glumly, staring at the dummy before me. Silver hair, drawn on crescent-shaped eyes, a wide creepy smile, and the kanji for ‘five’ written on the mannequin’s torso stared back at me damningly. God fucking dammit, how was it that Gin managed to humiliate me even when he was a stupid mannequin? Talk about unfairness.

“I’m afraid not. It’s a very good likeness, I have to admit,” Ukitake answered carefully, lips pressed tightly together in suppressed amusement. “For the most part, anyway. The eye-makeup, fake mustache, and the words ‘I am a bit fat stupid jerkface and I cannot lie’ tattooed onto the forehead were…unexpected, but I applaud you for your creativity.” One side of his lips twitched upwards and I seriously considered committing seppuku then and there.

Letting out a strangled noise of distress, I covered my face with my hands in mortification. “I’m not normally like this, I swear,” I said, voice coming out slightly muffled. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’d have to withdraw from the Academy and resign from the Fourth and change my name and dye my hair only I’d look _awful_ as a blonde or a redhead--”

I cut off my stream of babbling abruptly as I saw that Ukitake was shaking slightly from…laughter? Gaping at him in astonishment, I watched as he leaned against a tree, struggling to calm himself.

“Don’t…don’t worry, Yukimura-san, I’ll keep this between us if that’s what you wish,” he said, still chuckling slightly. “We all have our coping mechanisms for dealing with stress, and yours are healthier than some I could name.”

“Thank you, Ukitake-taicho,” I mumbled, my face still feeling like it was on fire.

“Not at all. However, I do recommend taking care of this before someone else stumbles upon it and comes to some…interesting conclusions,” he commented, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Right. I can do that,” I muttered to myself, walking over to the dummy and planting my hands on either side of its head. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on finding that spot of intense warmth deep in my chest, centered between my lungs, and focused on sending that warmth ( _heatfiredestructionlife)_ down my arms, through my palms, and into cool cloth, where the energy sparked to life. Seconds later, I watched as bright orange-yellow flames flickered merrily, consuming the dummy at a rapid pace before extinguishing when only ashes remained.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Ukitake asked, intrigued. “Raw reiatsu manipulation without an incantation…that’s quite an advanced skill.”

“Oh. Is it?” I deflected, flustered. “I was just, ah, trying to get some extra kido practice in. It’s nothing special.”

Compared to what Grumpy-face could do, anyway. He and I had reached a mutual agreement to stop my lessons for now, given the end of my kido ban. I’d resume them at the start of next semester, once my Kido Corps internship officially started, but Grumpy-face had left me several tasks to accomplish by the time we next met. For one, he expected me to be able to sense at least fourteen of the forty-two ‘reiryoku hotspots’ in the body. For another, I needed to be able to channel and isolate energy from at least six hotspots. Currently, I could do three with some confidence, and was working on a forth.

Which was a lot harder than it sounded, to the point where I’d even put my experiments with creating reiatsu strings on hold. Still, Grumpy-face made stuff like this look so _easy_ and commonplace that despite the struggles I was having with it, I sometimes forgot it wasn’t actually a skill the majority of the population was familiar with.

 “At the very least, it’s not a part of the Academy curriculum, the last time I checked,” Ukitake said, looking at me curiously.

“Well, since I got kicked ou—I mean, since I got my, um, kido privileges temporarily revoked a while back, I ended up with some free time on my hands, which I used to, uh, experiment around with reiatsu a bit,” I said awkwardly. “I asked one of my teachers for some additional help and they um, taught me some tricks and gave me some exercises to work on.” It technically wasn’t a lie.

“Ah yes, I remember you working on creating…reiatsu strings, was it? Although, isolating elemental reiatsu without a spell is quite a bit more difficult than simple shape manipulation,” Ukitake commented, seeming to buy my explanation. I barely refrained from slumping in relief. Given how gung-ho Grumpy-face was about the whole secrecy thing, I didn’t even want to imagine his reaction if he found out I managed to spill the beans before my internship even _started._ “Still, I’m glad to see that you’re taking the initiative to go beyond the material covered in your classes. However, I’d suggest you keep that--” He motioned towards the pile of ashes in front of us, a glint of humor in his eyes. “—to a minimum. Some people might get alarmed, you see.” I rubbed the back of my neck, staring up at him sheepishly.

“I understand. I’ll try not to make setting random things on fire a habit,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied with a smile, before glancing down at me. “I confess, I had an ulterior motive for suggesting this walk.”

“Oh?” I asked curiously, falling into step beside him.

“Yes. About the recent breakthrough in regards to my illness…” Ukitake paused, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “I never did thank you for that, did I?”

I faltered, missing a step. “So you _do_ know about my part in that. I wasn’t sure.”

To be honest, I didn’t even know how many people knew about my…extracurricular project anymore. Both Unohana and I had agreed that it was best if as few people knew about my involvement as possible, at least for now. I didn’t need the attention, and honestly, it was far easier to work without the weight of peoples’ expectations on me. Urahara knew, of course, as did Yoruichi, because she had about as much respect for personal privacy as a two-year-old with no impulse control. Byakuya knew that I had an interest in the subject, but he didn’t know the details, and several Twelfth Division members knew that I was researching a health disorder, but they didn’t know the specifics. Aside from that…

“Of course. I wanted to know the name of the person who was spending long nights staring at my blood cells under a microscope in the hopes of curing an incurable disease,” Ukitake said, a wry twist in his tone.

“Incurable, maybe, but not untreatable,” I said softly. “There’s a difference.” Ukitake hummed thoughtfully.

“May I ask how you came upon your diagnosis in the first place? Unohana-taicho explained the gist to me, but I would like hear how you came to your conclusion.”

“Of course. You have every right to be curious,” I said quickly, before taking a moment to organize my thoughts. “I suppose I should start at the beginning. After detailed perusal of the records of your medical scans, I discovered something rather interesting. Your lungs have rather intensive scarring, but they also have an incredible regeneration rate. It’s not readily apparent due to the extent of the damage, but the scar tissue disappears at a steady rate, to be replaced with healthy new tissue.” Which was absolutely _fascinating,_ since while most shinigami had remarkable healing rates, I’d never heard of lungs repairing themselves to that extent. Healing kido could eliminate some scarring, but it had its limits, especially in more the more serious cases. Maybe it was a captain thing? I hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to observe the extent of a captain’s healing.

“Ah,” Ukitake murmured, stiffening a little. “That’s not…altogether surprising. My lungs have always been rather…special.” I glanced at the slightly uncomfortable look on his face, before deciding to dismiss it. It wasn’t my business anyway.

“The problem is that the tissue is being damaged quicker than it’s being repaired. Which means that something is constantly attacking them, but from past records, boosting your immune system didn’t do anything to help. Your white blood cell count is abnormally high, however, which indicated an immune response to _something…_ only I found no significant signs of any foreign pathogens in your blood. I did, however, detect the presence of anti-glomerular basement membrane antibodies—molecules that attach to collagen fibers in the basement membrane of your lungs, and target them for destruction by other immune cells in your body—which shouldn’t have been there.”

It had been an absolute _pain_ to figure out what they were too, and that was _after_ the headache of combing through every square nanometer of blood to find them in the first place (thank the lord for the Twelfth’s ridiculously powerful microscopes and analysis machines). Initially, I’d only been able to conclude that they were some type of protein that I hadn’t found in any of my normal blood samples, and that they _might_ be some kind of antibody. Given the lack of any antibody-diagnosing tests, I’d spent almost two weeks trying to think of a solution. But if there was anything my decades of healing experience had taught me, it was that if I couldn’t use modern technology to do something (because there _was_ no modern technology, more often than not), there was usually a reiatsu-based answer if you were creative enough.

In…well, in about a century or so, one of the ways of tracking a molecule through the body was to attach a fluorescent tag to it, so I’d proceeded to try and figure out a way to infuse the proteins with my reiatsu (reiatsu, fluorescent substances, close enough) in order to sense them as they traveled through a body. It had taken some…well, a lot of trial and error, but eventually I’d managed to create proteins that were infused with my own spiritual energy. After that, it was simply a matter of injecting them into several mice and observing where their target sites were and the effects they had on them.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to cure an autoimmune disorder,” I said, ducking my head with a grimace. “There _are_ ways to lessen, or even eliminate some of the symptoms though, as I’m sure Unohana-taicho’s already told you. Blood plasma transfusions are inconvenient, but they _will_ reduce the amount of these antibodies in the blood, which should buy your lungs some time to recover. I’m working on trying to create an immunosuppressant drug too, in order to lessen the amount of these antibodies that your body makes. I—I haven’t quite come up with an idea for how to do that yet,” I rambled on, sending Ukitake an apologetic look. “But I _will,_ I promise, although with any drug like that—”

“Yukimura-san,” Ukitake interrupted.

“—there’s going to be some side effects—”

_“Yukimura-san.”_

“—but I don’t know of any way to prevent that and—”

“Yukimura-san!” He said sharply, cutting me off abruptly. My eyes widened in shock and I closed my mouth with an audible snap, absently noting that it was the first time I’d ever heard him raise his voice.

 “Yukimura-san, listen to me,” Ukitake said firmly, making sure he had my attention. “I don’t expect a miracle. In fact, when Unohana-taicho first told me that one of her healers was researching this, I wasn’t expecting anything to come of this at all. You…you’ve already done more than enough, accomplished more than I could have ever hoped for, and for that, I am in your debt.”

I swallowed, licking my lips nervously. “I don’t…all I’ve really done so far is explain how your illness works. That’s…that’s nothing, really. You should at least wait until you have some proof that my proposed treatment is effective before you thank me.”

“I have an answer to a question that has been tormenting me all my life. I think that’s significant enough,” Ukitake countered gently.

“Not for me,” I said quietly, looking at the ground. The weight of a warm hand on my shoulder made me glance up again to see Ukitake studying me carefully.

“Perhaps that answer didn’t bring me happiness,” he admitted, “but it did bring me some measure of closure.” He was quiet for a moment. “How ironic, that after all these years of thinking some invisible, malignant parasite was plaguing my body, it turns out that my illness was caused by none other than my own immune system,” he mused, laughing humorlessly.

“The immune system walks a fine line between being absolutely useless and killing you,” I said sardonically. Someone had once told me that, back when I was Christina, and the accuracy of the statement had struck a chord with me. “Yours seems to lean towards the latter, unfortunately.”

Ukitake coughed, a startled look crossing his features. “You certainly don’t mince your words, do you, Yukimura-san?” I shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate it.” I certainly never did when people did it to me. “Sugar-coating words and dancing around the subject rarely helps, I’ve discovered. Besides, just because you’re sick, doesn’t mean you’re fragile on the inside. To treat you differently because of your illness would be an insult.”

“See, that’s something I’ve always liked about you,” Ukitake said, a faint smile on his lips. “You’ve never pitied me, have you?” I frowned a little.

“I generally try to treat people the same way I want to be treated, and well…pity always felt like an insult to me, like someone was automatically putting me on a lower level than them. I can understand it—accept it even—but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I muttered. I’d _hated_ the careful looks people sent me, the whispered tones behind my back; as if just because I was dying, I was somehow lesser than them. “I know what it’s like to get dealt a bad hand in life, and pity by itself never helped anyone.”

“Ah yes…you _would_ know, wouldn’t you?” Ukitake’s eyes sharpened. “And is that what motivated you to tackle a near-hopeless case? That understanding?” There was a knowing look on his face that I didn’t like, suggesting that he’d guessed far more about me than I was comfortable with. I hesitated, choosing my next words with care.

“I once watched a girl I…knew very well die due to her own body killing her. The doctors couldn’t help her—there was no conclusive cure and the only thing they could do was delay the inevitable,” I said slowly, a hint of old bitterness seeping into my voice despite my best efforts. “I watched as she gradually withered away into a shell of her former self, and I…I watched as those around her suffered with her. I know that your situation is a bit different from hers, Ukitake-taicho, but… _no one_ deserves to go through something like that. And I think…I think I owe it to the memory of that girl to do everything in my power to keep others from going through the same pain.” Ukitake was silent for a long moment.

“I see,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Yukimura-san.” I glanced up at him, mentally frowning at the trace of genuine sorrow coloring his voice.

“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago, and I’ve made my peace with what happened. I didn’t tell you that story to make you sad, I told you so you could understand why I want to help you and why you shouldn’t feel like you owe me anything. Some simple gratitude is more than enough. After all, I’m a healer. It’s my job to try and make people feel better,” I said lightly.  

Ukitake huffed a laugh.

“I think you went above and beyond what your duty required of you, Yukimura-san,” he murmured. I shrugged.

“I disagree. As I’ve told Byakuya before, I do no more and no less than what’s necessary,” I said, absently fiddling with the ends of my scarf. It was turning into a bad habit. Ukitake’s gaze followed my movement, settling on where my hands were wrapped in the delicate fabric.

“Ah. A courting gift from Kuchiki-fukutaicho, I assume?" He asked politely. I nodded, unable to stop my lips from curving up into a soft smile.

“He spoils me,” I admitted, ducking my head shyly.

“I don’t blame him,” Ukitake glanced down at me, smiling a little. “He’s very lucky to have you, you know.”

I blinked in confusion because…well, multiple people had congratulated me, but this was the first time anyone had phrased it _that_ way.

“Don’t you mean _I’m_ lucky to have him?” I asked, puzzled. It wasn’t like I was lacking in self-confidence, but the fact of the matter was, I was a Rukongai girl and Byakuya was the heir of one of the most prestigious clans in the Seireitei. If anyone was moving up in life, it was me.

In response, Ukitake raised an eyebrow. “I meant what I said,” he said simply, before straightening up and glancing at the sky, “Well, I think it’s time I let you go back to your own division. I think I’ve monopolized your attention long enough.” His gaze drifted back down, lingering on where the Kuchiki insignia was sewn into one end of my scarf. An indecipherable emotion flickered across his face for a fraction of a second, before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. “Send Kuchiki-fukutaicho my regards, will you? And tell him I said congratulations.”

 

* * *

 

“Has anyone told you you’re amazing, Yuki-chan?” Ran sighed in contentment, before letting out a rather loud moan as I firmly pressed my thumbs into a rather stubborn tension knot.

“Given that I’m currently giving you a free massage, I’d say that your opinion is a bit biased, Ran-chan,” I pointed out.

“No, seriously. Have you thought about marriage? Because I’ll propose right now if it means getting this every day for the rest of my life,” Ran said earnestly. I rolled my eyes at the back of her head.

“Alas, I’m afraid my boyfriend would probably object to that,” I said dryly, trying my best to ignore the thrill that shot through me at the word ‘boyfriend’. After so long dismissing the possibility of it ever happening, I still couldn’t quite believe that Byakuya and I were _dating._

Even without me being able to see her face, I could tell Ran was pouting. “Figures that you’d be taken, Yuki-chan. Although, you should’ve told me before I got my hopes up.” I paused at the subtle inquiry disguised in her words.

“It’s a recent development. We only got together after I met you,” I explained, gliding my fingers up her neck. “How’s the heat level, by the way? Remember, if my hands start getting too hot, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Usually I used healing kido in my massages, but given how much effort I’d put into mastering elementary heat manipulation, I figured I might as well use the skill. It had been a bit of a challenge figuring out the perfect balance of inputting enough energy in order to relax the muscles and cause a pleasurable burning sensation, but not enough to cause any discomfort. Hence why I was taking things slow, but Ran didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s fine, Yuki-chan, stop—ah!—worrying. I’ll tell you if it starts hurting, I promise,” she said, her breath hitching as I began kneading the base of her skull. “You know, I have to admit I saw this night going in a different direction when you told me to forget the bar within five seconds of seeing me and requested that I take you to a more private setting. A word of advice—now that you’re seeing someone, you might want to watch your words a bit more carefully. Certain things could get misconstrued.”

“Like what?” I asked, bewildered. “It’s not like it was _hard_ to tell that you were looking stressed from your promotion. Given how tense you were, I didn’t think going to a bar was a good idea, since it’s not exactly the most relaxing environment. So I asked if you wanted to go to a quieter location so I could give you a massage, which is probably better for your body and stress levels than alcohol.” Ran huffed a laugh.

“Yes, and that was incredibly sweet of you, Yuki-chan,” She said fondly. “But I believe your exact words were ‘I have some ideas for how to make you relax—let’s go somewhere with a little less people, shall we?’”

There was a moment of silence as I turned those words over in my mind before things suddenly clicked.

“Oh. _Oh._ Wait, I didn’t mean—gah, I didn’t think—I’m so sorry,” I stuttered, feeling my face burn with mortification.

“Don’t apologize, it’s kind of funny now that I think about it,” Ran laughed, turning around to look at me. “Adorable, too. I do believe this is the first time anyone’s asked to come into my bedroom with such innocent intentions.”

“Wait, but if you thought I was…propositioning you, then why did you--” My voice trailed off as Ran raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow meaningfully. ”Oh.”

“You’re a pretty girl, and I’ve never been one to discriminate based on the sex of my partners,” Ran said, an amused smile on her lips. “Knowing that you’re taken changes things, of course. Although I’d guessed that you weren’t interested when the only thing you did after I stripped in front of you was stare at my breasts, look at me in concern, and ask if the weight caused me any pain in my upper back or neck.”

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, feeling my face somehow heat up even more. First Ukitake and now this—I must be breaking world records for sheer embarrassment this week. This was what I got for leaving my scarf at home…but surely it wasn’t a crime to want a break from all the stares and whispering I’d had to deal with all week? And by being ‘Yuki-chan’, I didn’t have to deal with the gossip (no one had said anything unkind, but the confusion I could see in peoples’ eyes was somehow even worse—a polite incomprehension as to _why_ the Kuchiki heir would waste his time on someone like me), the sudden increase in people vying for my attention now that I now had the potential to be _useful_ to them, the—I bit down on my lip harshly, forcibly shoving my thoughts aside.

“It’s not that you’re not attractive, it’s just…people stripping in front of me usually takes on a different meaning, given that I’m a healer,” I continued honestly, turning my attention back to Ran. Even as Christina, I’d developed what I’d termed my ‘doctor mode’—that is, the habit of looking at my patients’ bodies strictly in a clinical light. It was only professional, after all. It helped that experiencing physical attraction was pretty rare for me in the first place.

“I’m not offended; it’s pretty refreshing, actually,” Ran smiled at me as I hesitantly stepped forward to resume her massage. Now that I was aware of the fact that she’d invited me to her room with every intention of doing…alternative relaxation therapies, it was a lot harder to ignore the fact that she was, well, mostly naked. Still, decades of hanging out with Mai and Reiko and the other prostitutes in the red light district had mostly eliminated whatever shyness remained after my medical training, so I managed to recover my composure with only minimal faltering.

“Hey, did you ever get around to punching that friend of yours in the face?” I asked conversationally, rubbing up and down her upper arms.

“Of course. No one gets away with standing me up. Not even him,” Ran replied. She was quiet for a moment. “I just wish I knew _why_ he keeps pushing me away, you know? I know he cares, but…well, I guess he’ll tell me in his own time. There’s no use pushing anyway; he’s never been one to spill his secrets before he’s ready.” She paused for a second before continuing, forced cheerfulness in her voice. “At least he gave me a present for my promotion. _And_ two bottles of my favorite sake, which, let’s face it, I’m going to need. I cannot _believe_ how much more paperwork I have to do just because I rose up a few measly seats, seriously. Honestly, I can’t wait until I become lieutenant—it’s going to be great. I’ll get to order all my underlings to do my paperwork for me…delegate all the annoying little responsibilities to them while I have fun all day…it’ll be wonderful, Yuki-chan.”

“I’m not sure it works that way, Ran-chan,” I said dryly, thinking of all the work Byakuya had to do. “You seem pretty confident you’ll get there some day, though.” She glanced at me, ice-blue eyes sharpening.

“Oh, I’m not ‘pretty confident.’ I _know_ I’ll get there,” Ran said calmly.

“Someone you’re chasing?” I asked, studying her closely. It wasn’t self-confidence or arrogance I’d heard in her voice, it was determination. And that kind of resolve…well, that kind of resolve could only be personal.

Something like surprise flickered over her face before she chuckled quietly. “It amazes me how you can be so astute in some ways and so blind in others, Yuki-chan,” she said softly. “You kind of remind me of G—of my best friend, in that way. I think you two would get along.” Something unbearably sad crossed her face before her expression firmed. “He’s an overprotective overly-strong idiot who has a habit of leaving me behind, but screw that. I’ve never been the type of girl to stay behind where it’s safe. If he…if he’s so determined to charge ahead, then I’ll just have to work harder to catch up to him.”

 

* * *

 

Interlude

Yoruichi had promised him that she would do her best to make Hisana as presentable as any noble-born lady out there, and in the privacy of his mind, Byakuya admitted that she had outdone herself. There was something almost ethereally beautiful about Hisana in formal wear. The way she was decked in a beautifully patterned kimono, her hair artfully arranged on top of her head, and cheeks dusted a rosy pink that made her skin _glow—_ Byakuya doubted even the most critical of his clan elders could find anything wrong with her appearance.  

She looked…she looked like a noble _(she looked like a stranger)_ and Byakuya tried hard to ignore the ache in his chest at the thought. After all, that was the goal, wasn’t it?

Then she glanced at him, an aggrieved expression crossing her face, and the illusion shattered.

“How the hell do you nobles _wear_ this stuff all the time?” She demanded, motioning towards her kimono irritably. “I’ve been in this for all of a few minutes and I’m already worried that I’m going to somehow ruin it by like…breathing the wrong way, or something.”

“To the best of my knowledge, no one in the course of history has ever managed to ruin their clothing in such a manner,” Byakuya answered, amused.

“And it’ll be just my luck if I’m the first,” she sighed dramatically.

“Why, I never thought I’d see the day where Yukimura Hisana would be so concerned about the state of her clothing. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” he teased. She scowled at him.

“Laugh it up. _You’re_ not the one who’ll end up landing themselves in debt for all eternity if they mess this stupid overpriced bathrobe up,” Hisana sniffed. “I swear Shihouin-taicho lent me this kimono for the sole purpose of causing me anxiety.”

“That would never happen, I assure you,” he said confidently. “I could replace a kimono like that a thousand times over. Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. Would it make you feel better if you had a few similar sets as backup? I can understand why you’d feel apprehensive if this is the only one you have, but if you had a dozen or so extras of your own--”

“Stop,” she laughed, lightly hitting his chest with one hand. “You’re such a sap, you know that? And I believe I’ve made my stance on unnecessary gifts quite clear.”

“They wouldn’t be _unnecessary,”_ he grumbled. Her eyes softened and she reached out to lace their hands together, causing his heart to throb in his chest because while so many things may have stayed the same, the physical contact—being _allowed_ to touch her, stroke her hair, kiss her, without the accompanying feeling of guilt—well. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.

“Just getting to have _you_ is enough of a gift for me. I don’t need anything more than that, Byakuya,” she said with a faint smile on her lips, and not for the first time, Byakuya wondered what he’d ever done to deserve her.

“We should get going,” she said after a pause, during which Byakuya tried, and failed, to come up with a response that didn’t have the words _I love you so much, please marry me_ in it. “Don’t want to be late, after all. I don’t think your grandmother needs another reason to hate me.”

“She doesn’t _hate_ you—she hasn’t even met you!” Byakuya protested. “And while it’s true that she may have some reservations…” Hisana sent him a wry look.

“I asked Kukaku-san how she saw this night going, on a scale of one being ‘barely tolerable’ and ten being ‘we should just ditch your family and elope.’ Her answer was a nine, maybe an eight if I’m lucky,” Hisana said, a sardonic expression on her face. Byakuya winced internally.

“You know that I’ll support you no matter what happens, right?” He asked quietly. To be honest, he wasn’t really concerned about his grandmother’s reaction; he’d known from the moment he’d decided to inform her that he’d fallen for a Rukongai girl that she wasn’t going to take it well. What he _was_ worried about was how Hisana was going to react. He wasn’t _blind_ —he’d seen how tired she’d been for the past few months, working herself to the _bone,_ and with the added pressure of a courtship…he wouldn’t blame her if she decided it was too much.

It would hurt him, it would _devastate_ him, but his happiness was hardly worth it if it came at the cost of Hisana’s own. Although to the best of his knowledge, no one had been stupid enough to say anything rude to her _face,_ sometimes he thought that the compliments— _it must be nice having a boyfriend so much richer than you to buy you things, you’re so lucky, normally nobles don’t go for people like you so you must feel honored_ —were even worse, because there was no way for her to defend herself against them. There was only so much a person could take before their self-worth started taking a hit, after all, and while he was far too selfish to ever break things off _himself_ (and a part of him hated himself for that, for being the reason behind the shadows in Hisana’s eyes), if Hisana decided to, he would…do his best to support her decision.

A glimmer of surprise entered Hisana’s eyes at the earnestness in his voice. “A bit quick of you to take sides, don’t you think? You don’t even know how this dinner is going to go,” she said lightly.

“I don’t care,” he said, frustrated as he tried to search for the words to make her understand that it didn’t _matter_ who she was up against or what the future held, because he’d already committed himself to standing by her side. “You would support Rukia no matter what, correct? Then trust that I would do the same for you.” Hisana stilled before studying his features carefully for a moment.

“Alright,” she said finally, and squeezed his hand tightly. _Thank you._

He squeezed her hand back. _Anytime._

 

* * *

 

Despite Byakuya’s earlier apprehension, the dinner actually began rather well. At the very least, Yoruichi and Kukaku had done their part in making sure Hisana knew what to expect. She’d greeted Byakuya’s grandparents politely, executed a near-flawless bow, and had brushed off his grandmother’s slightly chilly response with a calm smile.

For a moment, Byakuya almost allowed himself to hope. In retrospect, that had been rather foolish of him.

“So Byakuya mentioned that you have family in the Rukongai,” Ginrei commented. Hisana’s face lit up, eyes brightening for the first time since they’d sat down.

“Oh, yes. Most of them aren’t related to me by blood, but I couldn’t have asked for a better family,” she said enthusiastically, composed mask completely forgotten. “There’s Kazuki and Mitsuo, who are like my older brothers. They’ve looked out for me since I first met them. And then there’s Kaori, who’s taught me everything I needed to know about living in the Rukongai, and Miwa, my apprentice, who probably knows as much as me about herbal remedies by now. She’s such a smart girl,” Hisana said fondly, with pride written in every line of her face. “And then there’s Renji and Rukia. Renji’s a bit of a hothead…well, to be perfectly honest, they both have a bit of a temper, but they’re good kids really, incredibly talented. They’ll be amazing shinigami someday.”

“I see that you’re very proud of them,” Masami said, and Byakuya hid a wince at the faint disapproval coating her tone. Handing out compliments so freely, especially when it came to one’s own blood…it just wasn’t something nobles _did._ There was nothing wrong with pride, of course—it was to be expected, even, but to voice that pride _out loud…_ “Do you always hand out your praise so easily, Yukimura-san?”

At that, Hisana’s expression closed off, her blank expression telling Byakuya she’d caught the faint scorn underlying the question. She tilted her head to the side, a mild smile crossing her lips. “I suppose I’ve just always thought that it’s better to be a little more open with my affection than risk having those I love doubt my feelings for them. But then, I understand that other people may have their own ways of expressing that they care, and I respect that. After all, who am I to tell people how to love each other?” She laughed softly, a self-deprecating tint to her voice that fooled absolutely no one.

_Oh, that was good. I must say, Master, she’s a natural at verbal sparring,_ Senbonzakura murmured inside his head. Byakuya nodded, swallowing, and tried to tell himself that he didn’t find the sight of Hisana holding her own with deceptively-polite words and a politician’s smile intensely attractive.

At that, Senbonzakura let out an undignified snort. _You find nearly everything she does attractive, Master. That’s nothing new—don’t even bother denying it._

“Quite right, Yukimura-san,” Ginrei said, after a brief pause. “And I look forward to meeting your two youngest siblings—Rukia and Renji, I believe their names were? And would I be correct in my belief that they will be taking the upcoming Academy exams?”

“I doubt I could prevent them from doing so if I tried,” Hisana said, relaxing slightly with a smile. “They’re still quite young, but given how hard they’ve been training, I figured the least I could do was allow them the opportunity to have their efforts pay off. And becoming a shinigami has been Rukia’s dream since she was little more than a toddler.”

“And the other members of your family? What do they do for a living?” Masami asked, taking a sip of her tea. Byakuya tensed, glancing towards Hisana worriedly only to find her as calm as ever.

“Miwa has taken over my job as a healer, providing medical care to those who need it. Kaori is an accountant of sorts, and helps various businesses with organizing their finances. As for my brothers…Kazuki runs a bar and Mitsuo operates a small dojo. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s enough to get by,” Hisana said, smiling blandly.

“I suppose that is…respectable enough,” Masami said after a moment of silence, a trace of purposeful surprise crossing her features. “I had worried—well, surely you know what the Rukongai is like. You understand why I would be concerned that they would be involved in some…less-reputable careers.”

A brief shadow crossed Hisana’s face. “‘Less-reputable?’ I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Kuchiki-sama.”

“Baa-sama,” Byakuya began, a hint of panic sparking in his chest as he saw where this was going. His grandmother ignored him.

“Don’t you? I am not entirely ignorant in regards to the uglier aspects of Soul Society, Yukimura-san. Do not pretend that you are ignorant to the rampant criminal activity outside these walls—thievery, murder, prostitution.” She sniffed in disgust. “It’s disgraceful.”

Byakuya gritted his teeth as he saw Hisana’s eyes darken because while he knew that Hisana’s family were all involved in more-or-less legal careers _now,_ he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it had always been that way. Although he didn’t know the details—Hisana had never told him and he’d never asked—it didn’t take a genius to notice a few things and put two and two together.

There was no way someone fought the way Kazuki fought—wild, brutal, underhanded and filled with dirty tactics—without getting cut a few times too many. Likewise, the level of overprotectiveness Mitsuo displayed towards his family, his desperation to keep them _safe_ at any cost (a trait that he shared with Hisana, now that Byakuya thought about it) could only have stemmed from personal knowledge of exactly _how_ horrible people could be at times. Then there was Kaori, with her wary suspicion, sharp eyes, and uncanny knack of fully analyzing a person’s body language in under five seconds, and well…Hisana’s ability to read people and Rukia’s stealth (pickpocketing) skills had to have come from _somewhere._ Finally there was Miwa, who had never come to fully trust him, who still flinched away whenever an unknown man approached her too quickly, who navigated the red light district as naturally as Byakuya navigated the Sixth Division headquarters, who greeted the prostitutes there like close friends, and Byakuya felt sick whenever he thought of it because she was _so young,_ and if Hisana hadn’t—

If Hisana hadn’t. It all came back to that, didn’t it? _If Hisana hadn’t…_ how many things would have turned out differently had she not been there?

“Disgraceful, you say? Is it so wrong for someone to do what they can to survive?” Hisana asked softly, a glint of something dangerous entering her eyes for the first time. Byakuya opened his mouth to speak up, but a sharp glance from his grandfather stopped him.

_Don’t. This is between them._

“You yourself have proven that it is possible to sustain yourself in the Rukongai without resorting to such means,” Masami pointed out.

“Ah, yes. But I was fortunate enough to specialize in a service that had a high demand,” Hisana said, gaze unwavering. “And even then…had it not been for the support of the very people you seem to view with such distaste, I doubt that I would have made it very far past my first year in the afterlife.”

“You condone such behavior then?” Masami asked frostily. Hisana’s smile sharpened a fraction.

“I did not say that. Don’t mistake me, Kuchiki-sama, I certainly don’t condone the crimes done in the Rukongai. But when those who do have the means to provide assistance to people such as myself refuse to help…well, I can’t afford to be picky about who I choose to accept aid from.” There was an edge to Hisana’s voice now, an undertone of cutting criticism that even her polite demeanor couldn’t mask entirely. Masami’s face hardened even as Byakuya couldn’t suppress a flinch.

_My people—the thieves, the whores, the thugs, the ‘disgraced’_ — _have done more for me than you nobles, with all your influence and wealth, ever have, so what does that say about you?_

“And what would you have us do, I wonder? Squander our fortunes in a futile attempt to create a utopic equality? Be realistic, Yukimura-san,” Masami scoffed. The corner of Hisana’s mouth quirked up briefly.

“Oh, nothing so drastic. But to start with, a willingness to reserve judgement towards those who are only trying to make the best of their current situations would be appreciated,” she replied, her smile showing a hint of teeth. There was a pause.

“My, my, you are quite open with your opinions for someone of your age, aren’t you?” Masami murmured, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t believe that age has anything to do with an opinion’s validity, Kuchiki-sama,” Hisana said simply.

“No? They say that with age comes experience and with experience comes wisdom. You don’t believe in that?”

“I do. And I agree that I can gain a lot by listening to my elders. But I am not so proud as to believe that I have nothing to learn from those younger than me,” Hisana said pointedly, a subtle bite to her words. “Listening to those who came before us is how we avoid the mistakes of the past, it’s true. But listening to those who come after us—that’s how we stop ourselves from stagnating.”

 “Change can be dangerous, and it’s not always for the better,” Masami said quietly, lips thinning. “And a reputation is such a fragile thing. It can be ruined so very easily and the stain of humiliation is permanent.” Her eyes trailed over Hisana’s figure, lingering on the calluses on her hands, the worn nails. “My grandson may not see you for what you are, but I am not nearly so blind, girl. No matter how prettily you dress up, you cannot fool me.”

At that, Byakuya straightened up abruptly, glaring at his grandmother.  

“Baa-sama--!”

“Let me make this clear, Kuchiki-san,” Hisana cut him off, and there was something in her posture that suggested that the last of her patience had vanished. “I… _dressed up,_ as you put it, in an attempt to respect your rules, not because I have anything to hide. You seem to think that the word _Rukongai_ is an insult, that by repeatedly bringing up my roots you can humiliate me into running away. It’s true that I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but you know what? I survived, I made a name for myself, and I will never, _ever_ be ashamed of that. So please, stop trying to use my background against me because I can tell you right now, it’s not going to work.”

There was a deafening silence before Hisana turned to where Ginrei was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ll see myself out, as I sense that I’ve overstayed my welcome. Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Kuchiki-taicho. It was a…pleasure to experience the famed Kuchiki hospitality for myself.” With that, she dipped into another near-flawless bow before slipping out the door.

“‘Famed Kuchiki hospitality,’ indeed,” Byakuya said bitterly, standing up as well. “Insulting a guest under our own roof—I thought you better than that, baa-sama.”

“I said nothing that wasn’t true,” she snapped back. “She doesn’t belong in our life, Byakuya.”

“That is not up to you to decide, Masami,” Ginrei said sternly, before glancing up at Byakuya. “Go.”

Byakuya didn’t need to be told twice.

 

* * *

 

Byakuya caught up with Hisana somewhere near the kitchens. It wasn’t hard to guess that she’d gotten lost.

“Stupid—overly big—ugh, is this a house or a maze?” She muttered angrily to herself. “Goddammit, can’t even make a proper dramatic exit in this place.”

“Oh I assure you, you succeeded,” Byakuya said honestly. At the sound of his voice, she whirled around, a carefully neutral expression on her face.

“Byakuya--”

“I am _so_ sorry,” he broke in, striding forward to stand in front of her. He reached out to grab her hand, thought better of it, and settled on a slightly awkward stance. “I never imagined…I know it doesn’t make up for what my grandmother said to you, but I offer my deepest apologies on her behalf and I want you to know that if you’re having second thoughts, I understand completely. I don’t want you to feel…to feel like you _have_ to be with me--” Because what had this courtship even given her, anyway? Attention? She’d never wanted that. Prestige? She was friends with multiple captains, she didn’t _need_ prestige. Money? The only things she ever showed an interest in buying were secondhand books and food.

“Byakuya, no offense to your grandmother, but it’s going to take more than one disapproving old lady to scare me off,” Hisana smiled faintly. “And don’t apologize—first of all, it wasn’t your fault, and second of all, I wasn’t completely blameless either. I…shouldn’t have walked out. Or been so confrontational.” She paused for a moment. “Although, I’m a little offended that you thought I would leave you so easily. Do you really have so little faith in me?” Hisana asked casually. She didn’t quite manage to hide the hurt in her voice.

“What? No! No, of course not,” Byakuya exclaimed hastily. “It’s just--” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I wish you were getting more out of this courtship. Sometimes it seems like it’s causing you stress more than anything else, and I don’t…I don’t want this to become another burden to you.” Her expression softened.

“I promise I’ll tell you if it ever gets to that point, Byakuya. In the meantime, don’t worry about me.” She glanced at him and a mischievous glint entered her eyes. “Besides, I happen to think I’m getting plenty out of this courtship. A halfway decent kisser, for one.”

“ _Halfway decent?_ ” Byakuya sputtered in indignation. She tilted her head to the side, a mock-thoughtful expression crossing her face.

“Yeah, you’re right. ‘Halfway decent’ is being a bit generous. It’s more along the lines of ‘barely passable,’ really.”

“Why, you--” He reached out to grab her, only for her to dance nimbly out of the way. Sticking out her tongue at him, Hisana proceeded to sprint down the corridor. Shaking his head, Byakuya let a smirk cross his lips. “Oh, it’s _on.”_

A quick flash-step later, he had her pinned against the wall. Hisana was laughing so hard she could hardly stand up, which was just as well since it gave him an excuse press closer to her.

“Take that back,” he murmured playfully into her ear, feeling her body shake with laughter against his. “I am a _fantastic_ kisser, I’ll have you know.” She just grinned at him, eyes bright.

“Why don’t you prove it to me, then?” she challenged. That was all the invitation he needed and then he was slanting his mouth over hers in a deep kiss, wet and warm and _perfect_ , tongues twisting and tangling together. She let out a gasp as he nibbled at her bottom lip, her hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair as she pulled him closer. Then it was his turn to let out a choked groan as her lips trailed down his jaw to where it met his neck and _sucked_ , causing his hips to buck involuntarily—

“I love you,” she whispered against his skin, so quietly he almost missed it. Byakuya stilled, before pulling back to look at her with something like wonder. Hisana’s gaze was soft, reverent, and so tender it made his chest ache a little. He swallowed heavily and leaned back in to press their foreheads together.

“I love you too,” he said, voice trembling slightly with emotion. He took one of her hands and pressed her knuckles to his lips, mouthing the words again. _I love you._

He already knew he’d never stop.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as this story is concerned, Mimihagi replaced Ukitake’s lungs with lungs that continually healed themselves from damage, thus keeping him alive. Didn’t cure him by any means, but it kept his lungs from suffering a lethal amount of harm. I don’t know if this is exactly canon-compliant, but honestly, at this point I don’t really care since the whole thing was sort of ridiculous anyway. Don’t expect me to go into any further detail on this subject. 
> 
> Also, in case any of you are interested, I’ve started a new story called ‘To Love a Monster’ starring an SI/OC reborn as Aizen Sousuke’s twin! Fair warning though—it’s not nearly as light-hearted or fluffy as WTL. Like there will be some fluffy moments, sure, but it’s…yeah, it’s pretty angsty and dark at times.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more Fourth Division members make an appearance, Aizen Sousuke is one charming motherfucker, Gin is Gin, Hisana trolls a captain, and there is lots of sass. I don't even know what's going on anymore.

“Well now, there’s a face I didn’t expect to see here. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” At the familiar voice, I looked up to see Otoribashi-taicho standing in the doorway, a faint smile on his lips.

“Otoribashi-taicho!” I said in surprise, stepping outside to greet him. “I’m on shift now, actually, but taicho wanted me to take care of something here. How are you? I haven’t seen you lately.”

“Is that your way of saying that you missed me?” He teased. “I’m honored. Then again, it’s hardly a surprise. After all, I am a fount of artistic genius, a source of musical inspiration, a beautiful sight for sore eyes, a—”

“—man of unparalleled ego, apparently,” I said dryly.

“My dear girl, it’s not arrogance if you can back it up,” he smirked lazily, causing me to roll my eyes. “Besides, I know you like me or else you wouldn’t keep coming around.”

“I tolerate you to get access to your violin, not because of your personality,” I protested.

“So you like me because I’m the means to a creative outlet you can use to release your deepest passions? I’ll take it,” he decided.

“How did you get all that from ‘I like your violin’?” I wondered. “Actually, you know what? Don’t answer that. The less I know about how your brain works, the better.”

“So sassy. I can see why Unohana likes you,” he chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. I twitched. 

_If I’d known he was secretly such an irritating bastard, I’d never have started going over to the Third to begin with,_ I thought grumpily to myself _. Ugh, I can’t believe I fell for his ‘I’m a friendly, reasonable, mostly-normal guy’ act those first few weeks. He’s a_ captain. _That alone should’ve set off all my there’s-no-fucking-way-he’s-normal alarms._

“Speaking of Unohana, I was expecting to see her here. She normally comes to recruitment events like this,” Otoribashi continued, an inquiry clear in his voice. I paused in the middle of fixing my hair.

“Taicho couldn’t make it. There was an accident down at the Twelfth an hour ago; half the upper seats are running around trying to minimize the damage,” I explained scowling.

“Unohana had to get personally involved? Sounds serious,” Otoribashi said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, there’s some experimental airborne toxin that apparently reacts badly with skin. Like, causes-it-to-peel-off-by-the-strips bad. I was there when the first few cases were rushed in. It’s…pretty awful,” I confessed, grimacing. “I mean, it was confined to just one relatively-small lab, but the patient I saw, his arm…well the phrase ‘de-gloved’ comes to mind and from what I hear, that’s not even the worst of the cases.”

“De-gloved—? Wait, you don’t mean…” Otoribashi’s voice trailed off, his expression now faintly disgusted. I sighed, offering him a weary smile.

“He’ll be fine. Off-duty for the next couple of weeks, obviously, but skin is relatively easy to regrow,” I muttered, rubbing at my forehead. “But yeah, taicho’s pretty occupied right now. Since my reiatsu was still running a little low from the kido final exams this morning and since most of the upper seats can’t be spared, she told me to take a spot on the panel. So here I am.”

“She told you to oversee the 4th Division recruitment panel for the fifth years?” Otoribashi asked, surprise clear in his voice. I blinked.

“What—? Oh god, no,” I laughed. “No, I’m just supposed to fill in for seventh seat Tsukuda-san. Like I said, we can’t really spare many higher level seats right now, so the panel is mostly me and a couple unseated officers. I mean, sure, I might be willing to do it, but I don’t really have the rank or the experience to officially lead a panel like this.”

“Then who—?” Otoribashi began. I winced, eyes sliding in the direction of the men’s bathroom.

“Ah. Unfortunately, Iemura-senpai wasn’t really...mentally prepared to have to stand in for taicho and give a presentation in front of 400 people,” I said awkwardly. “Um…I know that you have your own panel to lead in about five minutes, but uh…after you’re finished, would you mind going into the men’s bathroom to get him? Possibly say a few encouraging words? I’d do it myself, but when I tried a couple guys screamed at me. I still don’t understand why—it’s not like I’ve never seen a penis before.” I shook my head. “Men. So sensitive about the littlest things.”

“For their sake, I’m going to hope you meant that figuratively and not literally,” Otoribashi muttered. “Fine, I’ll do it. If only because if I don’t, you’ll just go back in there and the thought of you walking into a room full of guys with their dicks out doesn’t sit right with me.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re coming over Tuesday evening, right? There’s a new piece I’m working on, and I wanted your opinion.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I smiled. “Besides, I’ve missed Violeta. I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“Violeta—? Wait a minute, you _named_ my _violin_?!”

 

* * *

 

“I’m doomed. I’m doomed. I’m doomed.”

I sighed, looking over towards where Iemura was fumbling with a thick stack of papers while muttering under his breath.

“As I’ve told you at least ten times already, you’ll be _fine._ You’ve spent the past few hours obsessing over this—you’re ready. _”_ I said, poking him in the forehead. He glared at me, glasses slightly askew.

“I was _prepared_ to stand aside and answer a few questions while Unohana-taicho lead the presentation, not take over the presentation myself!” He said, reaching up to wipe his glasses agitatedly. “This is one of the biggest recruitment events of the year, to convince the students who are graduating next year to give our squad a chance. And how do you think it’s going to look when we’re the only division that doesn’t have a captain or a lieutenant present? Hell, we don’t even _have_ a lieutenant!”

“You know this division as well as taicho does, Iemura-senpai. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have the rank of a captain or a lieutenant; you’re just as qualified to speak for this squad,” I said firmly, reaching out to grasp his hands. They were shaking slightly.

“I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I may know the organizational aspects of our division, but speaking in front of this many people? I don’t—I’m not _good_ with people, Yukimura. People don’t like me, not the way they like you or Unohana-taicho or—”

“Hey,” I interrupted softly. “Screw those people. _I_ like you—doesn’t that count for something?” Grinning at his reddening face, I grabbed him by the hand and began leading him towards the auditorium. “Besides, it’s not like you’re facing this by yourself. You have me, and Yamanaka-san, and Ogidou-san too. You’re not alone, Iemura-senpai.”

“Yamanaka and Ogidou? That gossiping empty-headed nurse and that smiling idiot whose love letters keep clogging up the 4th Division mailboxes? I feel so reassured,” Iemura muttered disparagingly.

Despite his words though, I noticed that his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

 

* * *

 

“—and so the Fourth Division is divided into fourteen relief teams, each specializing in its own area. For example, the first relief team specializes in directing orders at the Coordinated Relief Station, the primary medical facility in the Seireitei. The second relief team specializes in field emergency medicine, while the third is geared more towards quick transport of patients to and from the Seireitei. The fourth relief team—”

_I swear to god, if I spot one more napping student, I’ll go down there and personally slap them awake,_ I thought irritably, narrowing my eyes at a student snoring in the second row.

_Not everyone is as interested in healing as you are, little firebird,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa sighed.

_I don’t care if they think that this panel is irrelevant to their interests, what they’re doing is just plain disrespectful!_ I replied angrily. _At the very least, if they were planning on sleeping through this, they should’ve had the common decency to take a seat in the back,_ not _right where senpai and the entire auditorium can see them. Senpai has enough self-confidence issues without having to deal with a dozen or so people choosing to nap through his presentation._

_He’s a grown man, Hisana. He can deal with this on his own,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa pointed out gently.

_Doesn’t mean that he should have to,_ I thought sullenly, sinking back into my chair. It really didn’t help that all the acoustics were hugely magnified in this room to ensure that the speaker could be heard. Handy, since microphones didn’t seem to be invented yet, and it had the added bonus of discouraging students from speaking during lectures, but with each passing snore…

Refocusing on Iemura, I noticed that he had moved on to describing some of the training Fourth Division members were required to go through.

“Of course, it all depends on your initial starting level,” he began. “If a shinigami is a complete novice in the field of medicine, then they are required to shadow a seated officer for a period of one year, during which they will only be allowed to perform minimal tasks. They will also be expected to pick up on the basics of healing kido and anatomy in their spare time. After that, they will be placed on a probation period lasting anywhere from three to five years. During this time, their actions will still be largely monitored by a senior officer, although they will gain more autonomy—for example, an intern will be allowed to treat minor to moderate injuries with healing kido. Once their attending officer has deemed that they are sufficiently proficient, they will then be assigned to a relief team. Now, this process may seem long, but I assure you, it is necessary to ensure that all our shinigami are prepared to handle the difficulties of—” He paused as he noticed that a student in the fourth row had raised their hand. “Yes? You had a question?”

“Uh-huh.” The speaker—a dark-haired, muscular boy—tilted his head to the side, a slight smirk curling at the edges of his lips. I straightened up, an uneasy feeling curling in my gut.

“Sorry for interrupting your, ah,” he paused delicately, “ _fascinating_ presentation, but I just wanted to clarify something. You said that the total training process lasts anywhere from four to six years, correct? How rigorous would you say that is? I just want to know if I’d have time to visit home between scrubbing toilets and kissing asses, you see.” Several people in the audience snorted and I heard a few muffled giggles. Iemura’s face turned a blotchy red and my hands clenched into fists.

_Okay, that’s it. Screw playing nice._

“I believe Iemura-san already said that the majority of an intern’s time would be spent learning basic healing kido and human anatomy, not—how did you put it?—oh yes, scrubbing toilets and kissing asses. My sincere apologies if that was something you were looking forward to but I’m afraid that’s not what the Fourth Division is about. Which you’d know, if you’d been paying attention,” I said sweetly. There were a few nervous chuckles scattered about, and this time it was his turn to flush an ugly red.

“That’s not what I—I just meant, it doesn’t add up, does it? Up to six years to learn how to make some glowy green light? Come on now, you can’t tell me that makes sense. I mean, it’s _healing kido—_ anyone can do it,” he scoffed. I paused before looking towards where Iemura was standing.

“Hey Iemura-senpai, is it okay if we swap places for a bit? I’d like to take this question, if you don’t mind,” I called out. He blinked.

“O-of course,” he stammered. “Go ahead, Yukimura.” That was all the permission I needed. With that, I stood up and walked to the edge of the stage.

 “You there, what’s your name?”

“Hayashi Tadahiko,” he answered after a moment of hesitation.

“Okay then, Hayashi Tadahiko, so you think that healing kido is something anyone can do, right?” I asked pleasantly. He nodded, looking a bit unsure now that I had singled him out. “Well, you’d be right.”

“I—I am?” He blinked, looking taken aback.

“Mmm. It’s true that anyone with reiatsu can learn healing kido—it’s just another skill, after all,” I shrugged “But there’s a difference between knowing healing kido and being a healer, and not everyone has what it takes to be the latter.” At his dubious expression, I smiled, clasping my hands behind my back. “Let’s play a game, shall we? Just the two of us.”

“A game?” He parroted, looking wary now.

“Imagine that you chose the Fourth Division upon graduating from the Academy, maybe because the lure of scrubbing toilets was too irresistible to you, I don’t know. Humor me. Anyway, it’s your fifth year and you’ve just finished your probation period. You did it, you’re a full-fledged Fourth Division member, and…well, it kind of sucks, to be honest. You pissed off someone a couple ranks above you a few weeks back, and now you’re stuck doing the graveyard shift at the Coordinated Relief Station’s emergency unit for the next month. With me so far?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s the point of this—”

“Just be patient. Anyway, it’s three a.m. and you’re bored out of your mind. Nothing’s happened for the past few nights, and you seriously doubt that anything’s going to happen now. Not only that, but your buddy who usually does the shift with you is on leave, your other buddy ditched and is probably out drinking right now, and worst of all, the cute nurse you’ve been flirting with on and off had to leave suddenly to take care of her sick mother. How do you feel?” To Hayashi’s credit, he actually appeared to be considering the question.

“Um…probably pretty annoyed. And it’s three a.m. right? So I’d also be really tired too.” I hummed.

“Right. So you’re exhausted, annoyed, and the whole thing’s just totally unfair. After all, if everyone else ditched, why do you have to stay there? And it’s not like there’s anything for you to _do_ there. Truthfully, it’s just a waste of your time. The senior officer on shift seems to think the same thing, and he offers to let you go home early for the night. What do you do?”

“Well, I say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked bewildered.

“I don’t blame you. It seems like the obvious choice, doesn’t it?” I paused. “The next morning, you walk into work and you hear from the pretty nurse you’ve been crushing on that last night, at around four a.m., a pregnant female was rushed into the emergency unit, badly beaten and with contusions on the abdomen and chest, multiple stab wounds, and a dented skull. The healers on duty do everything they can, but there’s too much to fix and they’re short on hands—neither the mother nor the baby survive.” I watched as Hayashi turned white, the blood draining from his face.

“But—but it wouldn’t be my fault,” he stammered. “I-I mean, I had permission to leave.”

“Of course it’s not your fault,” I said softly. “And had you been there, it’s quite likely that nothing would have changed. Maybe the mother would have survived, maybe not; it’s impossible to know. That doesn’t change the fact that you left your shift when you knew the unit was understaffed. It was your job to be there and you weren’t.” Looking around, I noted with grim satisfaction that every single student was wide awake at this point.

“Now, next scenario. Consider this—you’ve been at the Fourth for a few more years and you’ve risen through the ranks quite a bit. A call comes in from a group of 9th Division shinigami stationed right outside the second district of West Rukongai—they need medical help, and they need it now. You were chosen to lead a team of healers to meet them; it’s your first time being trusted with anything so important. How do you feel?”

“Um, excited I guess,” he replied, still looking a bit pale. I nodded encouragingly.

“Of course you are. It’s an opportunity to show your commanding officers that you know what you’re doing; maybe you’ll even end up impressing your captain. Once you get there though, you automatically know that there’s something horribly wrong. A few shinigami are off to the side, suffering from moderate injuries, but they’ll live so long as they get medical treatment. You assign a few members of your team to treat them before turning to the real problem.” I paused for a moment before continuing quietly. “There’s a boy, a few feet away from you. You recognize him as a newly graduated Academy student, fresh in the field. He’s screaming in pain even as his team member tries desperately, futilely, to shove his intestines back into the gaping hole in his abdomen. There’s a sea of glistening blood decorating the ground, and the boy is getting paler by the second.” Hayashi now looked vaguely sick. He wasn’t the only one.

“You immediately know that there’s nothing you can do—possibly the only one who can save him at this point is Unohana-taicho herself—but upon seeing you, the boy’s team member looks up and the hope in his eyes is unmistakable. He begs you on his hands and knees to save him, to perform a miracle, but at this point, any attempt on your part would just prolong the inevitable. Your fellow healers look towards you, waiting for your orders, but you can’t think, not when the boy’s whimpering fills your ears. You think back to what your superiors told you to do in this kind of situation—you have the skills, the authority to end that boy’s suffering, to ensure that his last moments are painless…what would you do in that situation, Hayashi-san?”

Hayashi looked away, unable to meet my eyes. “I—” He began, voice choked. “I would…do what I was trained to do.”

“Spoken like a true shinigami,” I said, voice carefully blank. “Quite admirable of you, Hayashi-san. Not many would have the strength to end things. After all, when it comes down to it, it was your job to save that boy’s life and you made the choice to give up on it.” He flinched.

“Now, there’s just one more scenario I want you to imagine,” I said quietly. “You’ve been assigned to accompany a team on a two-week long mission as medical backup. Two members of the team are grievously injured and as the only healer on the team, you’re forced to make a choice. You’re too far from the Seireitei to call for backup, time is limited and there’s only so much reiatsu you have to spare. You have an equal chance of saving either of them. Who do you choose to let live?”

Hayashi’s brow furrowed. “The higher ranked officer, of course. That’s just protocol,” he said.

“A good, textbook answer,” I replied neutrally. “Now, let’s make this more interesting. One of the shinigami happens to be the team leader—he’s also your best chance of getting you and the rest of the team out of the mission alive. The other shinigami…do you have a best friend, Hayashi-san? Someone who understands you, makes you laugh, a person you can trust to always have your back?” His eyes widened and he glanced automatically at the red-haired boy sitting on his left, which was an answer in itself.

“Well, logic tells you to choose your commanding officer, of course. Your other team members yell at you to stop being stupid and to do your job, but…that would mean going home and facing your best friend’s family, the people who have welcomed you into their home, only to tell them that you failed their son. That you decided his life wasn’t worth as much just because he was of a lower rank. On the other hand, if you decide to save your friend, not only are you putting the lives of everyone on the team at greater risk, if you do make it home alive you’ll be disgraced for failing to perform your duty. Certainly demoted. You’ll be classified as ‘emotionally unstable’ for the rest of your career.” I smiled grimly. “Now, Hayashi-san, let’s go back to the question I just asked you—who do you choose?”

Hayashi swallowed, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. I offered him a sad smile, the first genuine one I’d given him so far. “Not so easy after all, huh?”

He pressed his lips tightly together and looked down. I sighed and turned my attention where the rest of the audience was watching me silently. More than a few people looked unnaturally pale.

“I’m not going to lie to you or feed you some bullshit about how Squad Four is better than the other divisions, that it’s more honorable, respectable, whatever,” I said flatly. “The truth of the matter is, healing’s not for everyone. And before any of you decide to commit yourselves to it, I believe all of you deserve to first get a glimpse of how hard it can be. I’m sure you’ve heard things about us; how we’re weaklings who don’t know how to fight, how we’re the ‘safety squad’, the reject division, how we’re _soft…_ as if just because we accept a greater proportion of applicants, that makes what we do less difficult, less worthwhile.” I paused for a moment.

“Hayashi-san was correct when he said that healing kido’s not particularly hard to learn, but there’s so much more to healing than that. It’s about personal sacrifice, about doing what needs to be done, and about making the choices no one should have to make. It’s not an exaggeration when I say that Squad Four is the division that decides who lives and who dies in the Seireitei,” I said softly. “It’s a responsibility that can be crushing at times, that can drain you and leave you an empty husk if you’re not careful. At some point in your career as a healer, you’ll be forced to make a choice that will haunt you for months, if not years—you’ll stay up at night wondering if you made the right call and the thing is, you’ll never get an answer because the choices we need to make _have_ no right answers. And you’re going to have to live with that.”

“Then why do it?” A girl in the middle row called out, brow furrowed in confusion. “If you have to give up so much and you get so little out of it…why become a healer at all?” I faltered for a second.

_Why do you want to become a doctor, Christina?_

“You know, it’s actually been a very long time since anyone’s asked me that question,” I mused. It had always just been an accepted fact, really. No one had ever _questioned_ my motivations before, not in this life. “I’m sure that it’s different for each Fourth Division member but for me personally…the reason is simple. I first became interested in medicine because I watched my grandfather suffer a heart attack in front of me when I was very young. Luckily, there was a healer nearby and they were able to save him.”

_Grandpa! Are you okay?_

_Shit, I think he’s suffering a heart attack!_

_Is there a doctor nearby? A nurse? Anyone?_

_Move out of the way! Someone call 911 while I start CPR._

I blinked, pushing back foggy memories of panic and confusion and fear, the sound of cracking ribs and sirens blaring in the background. “Anyway, I guess you could say that that was a rather pivotal moment in my childhood. I decided then that I _hated_ the feeling of watching helplessly, of being completely useless as someone I loved was dying in front of me. If something like that happened again, I wanted to be able to help. Over time, that desire evolved from wanting to help people _I_ cared for, to wanting to help people in general. Because even if they weren’t _my_ parent, sibling, lover, or friend, it was a pretty safe bet to say that they were _someone’s._ And yes, this job may be impossibly tough at times, but I don’t mind the long hours or the sleepless nights if it means that some other little girl doesn’t have to lose a loved one. Honestly, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing.” I began pacing back and forth across the stage.

“All of you are at a critical moment in your lives right now. Next year you’ll start sending out applications to different squads but before you do that, you’ll need to ask yourselves what kind of shinigami you want to be. What are you looking for in a squad? What kind of people do you want to work with on a daily basis?” I paused for a moment.

“I’m going to tell you right now that if you’re looking for a glamorous position that comes with bragging rights and lots of opportunities to show off, then don’t even bother applying here. I think I speak for every Fourth Division member when I say that we won’t hold it against you if you decide it’s not a path you want to take. It’s a thankless job more often than not, and we’re not like the other squads—we don’t have the prestige of the First, the acclaimed skill of the Second, or the respectability of the Sixth. We aren’t known for our battle skills like the Eleventh, or for our intelligence like the Twelfth. You certainly won’t learn any flashy techniques from us, like how to shoot multiple fireballs at once, or how to topple a building in one blow.” I hesitated, considering my next words.

“But what you _will_ learn is how to stop someone from bleeding out, how to shock a heart into beating again, how to bring someone back from the brink of death, and personally? I think there’s a kind of magic in that.” My voice softened and I looked down at my hands for a second. “In making things better, you know? In telling a panicked friend or relative that everything will be okay and being able to _mean_ it. And seeing that relief in a person’s eyes when they see their loved one, alive and well, knowing that _you’re_ the reason a family wasn’t ripped apart…” My breath caught. “Believe me when I say that there’s no better feeling in the world.”

I looked up again, and this time my smile was entirely genuine. “I hope that clarified some things on why I chose the Fourth Division and why I love what I do. It looks like we still have some time left—if you have any further questions, my colleagues and I would be happy to answer them.”

With that, I walked back and took a seat next to Iemura, trying to hide how my hands were shaking. That…that had taken more out of me than I’d expected.

The sensation of a warm hand grasping my own made me look up in surprise. Iemura’s face—staring straight ahead, facing the audience—gave nothing away, but his grip tightened in a reassuring squeeze.

_You did well. Thank you for speaking up for me._

On my other side, Ogidou offered me a surreptitious high-five under the table, and Yamanaka gave me a thumbs up.  

_It’s like you told Iemura earlier. You’re not alone,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said as I ducked my head to hide a smile I wasn’t able to stop from forming. _You have people who you can count on._

_Yeah,_ I said, a bit of tension leaving my shoulders. _I really do, don’t I?_

To my surprise, about ten hands shot up immediately. Iemura blinked, before pointing towards a plump girl with round glasses. “Yes?”

“So, um, as Yukimura-san said, everyone can learn how to heal but not everyone has what it takes to…to really be a healer. Can you expand on what kind of traits you look for in potential recruits?” She asked, blushing.

_Huh. And here I was worried that I’d scared everyone off,_ I thought to myself in bemusement. _Apparently not. That’s a relief._

“Well, obviously prior experience in the medical field and some knowledge of healing kido and anatomy would be preferred,” Iemura began. “As well as above-average reiatsu control and decent scores in kido. But…” He hesitated, glancing towards me. “When it comes down to it, all of that is secondary. The main thing I’d look for in a recruit would have to be honor. Integrity. Because as a healer, you have a responsibility to your patient, to do your utmost best to save their life, and you can’t let personal biases cloud that. After all, where would we be if every healer refused to treat people they didn’t like?” He shook his head. “It would be chaos.”

“Responsibility, as well,” Ogidou added. “Everyone, no matter their rank, is expected to show up on time and do their part. You also have to be willing to take charge, and, when the injury is beyond your ability to treat, you need to be able to admit it and hand the case over to someone who _does_ have the necessary skill. Arrogance has no place here; not when the patient is the one who’ll pay for it.”

“Attitude, too,” Yamanaka piped up, speaking for the first time. “You gotta be willing to look on the bright side and in this field especially that’s something you have to keep in mind. Or else you’ll never find the strength to get up in the morning.”

“And passion,” I finished quietly. “I’d take a recruit with enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn over a recruit with an impressive resume any day.” I pointed at a blonde girl sitting near the back. “You had a question?”

 “So you’ve obviously seen a lot,” she began, fidgeting slightly. “I was just wondering, can you tell us about a case that really stood out to you?”

“Oh, gosh. There’s been so many,” I sighed, thinking hard. “A case that stood out to me…well, this actually happened back when I was still working in the Rukongai—yes, I was a healer even back then. It happened just a few years after I opened my clinic and I remember heading home late one night only to come across a man collapsed in an alley. He was suffering from hypothermia, and had a nasty gash across one eye with infection just beginning to set in. I was more concerned about the blood loss though—both his wrists were cut, and he was bleeding out fast,” I said, lips twisting grimly.

“I remember thinking that I had a decision to make; at that point, it might just have been more merciful to let him die in peace. After all, he was obviously homeless, penniless, and didn’t seem to have any family or friends to fall back on. But I have…struggled far too much for my own survival to just watch someone, even a stranger, take their own life like that. So I bound his wrists, brought him to my clinic, and healed him.” I shrugged. “Took me nearly a week before I was satisfied with his health and the whole time he just sat there, staring at me with empty eyes, wondering why I didn’t let him die. I didn’t have a concrete answer for him, just handed him 2000 kan—enough to find a place to stay for a couple nights, maybe buy a meal or two—and told him that he wasn’t allowed to die until he found some meaning in his life first. To be honest, I didn’t expect to see him again so imagine my surprise when eight years later, he shows up on my doorstep. Only this time he’s not alone, he has a little girl with him holding his hand. He hands me a pouch full of money—exactly 2000 kan—and tells me that he did what I told him to, he found some meaning in his life and he just wanted to thank me for keeping him alive long enough to find it. And then the little girl steps up to me and she hands me this slightly crushed flower, and she says, “Thank you for saving my daddy, pretty lady.” I laughed softly, feeling a bit choked up. “I remember walking around with a smile that entire week because it’s the little things like that that mean the most, you know? That get you through the hard times.”

“Wow, that’s…really awesome. Thanks for telling us that,” she said, eyes wide.  

“It was my pleasure. I don’t get to tell that story enough, so I’m glad you gave me the opportunity,” I said, offering her a smile. “Any other questions?”

I let the others take over for a while after that, absently wishing that I had a glass of water—my throat was getting rather dry. There were a couple questions coming from those who wanted to know if there were any opportunities for people who wanted to learn a bit of basic healing, but didn’t necessarily want to go into the Fourth Division, which Iemura handled well enough. It wasn’t until I felt a familiar presence—muted but unmistakable—slip into the back of the auditorium that I straightened up. Judging by the way Iemura stiffened, he’d also noticed.

“So any pieces of advice on how to succeed in the Fourth Division?” A gangly-looking teenager asked. I tore my gaze away from the shadowy figure I could barely make out, and grinned.

“Advice, huh? Well, off the top of my head, two things immediately come to mind. Number one,” I began, holding up my index finger. “Respect Unohana-taicho. Because she’s an actual goddess who deserves to have temples built in her honor and no, I’m not just saying that because she’s the one who decides my salary.” Ogidou snorted, shoving me lightly.

“Captain’s pet,” he accused, grinning.

“And proud of it,” I retorted, before turning back to the student who’d asked the question. “Secondly, and this is even more important than the first rule,” I said, abruptly serious. “Respect yourself, because at that point, you’ll have more than earned the right to be proud. Keep your chin up, smile, and don’t let _anyone_ tell you that you’re worthless.”

“And what do you do when people are being idiots?” He asked, slightly dubiously. “Beat them up?”

“Certainly not.” I leaned forward, staring him in the eye. “I am a professional, student-san. I take my job as a healer very seriously, and I would never even _dream_ of harming a patient in my care. Understood?”

“I—yes, ma’am. Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” he stammered.

“Glad to hear that,” I smiled slightly before pausing. “That being said, I’ve found that a couple whacks over the head with a clipboard is a very effective remedy in treating general assholery, lack of common sense, and many other ailments commonly found in the shinigami population.”

“She’s not lying either. Yesterday, I saw a patient actually _flinch_ at the sight of a clipboard. Trust me, you really don’t want to piss this one off,” Ogidou muttered, before wincing as I elbowed him in the ribs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yamanaka raise a hand to her lips to hide a giggle. “See? So violent.”

“Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Anyway, I think we have time for one more question.” I scanned the audience, before stopping in surprise when I got to a familiar face. “Hayashi-san? Go ahead.”

“You mentioned earlier how there are always going to be times where you can’t save everyone. How…how do you stop yourself from getting caught up in your past failures?” He asked. I was silent for a moment.

“By reminding myself of the ones I _did_ save,” I replied quietly. “I remember every patient who died under my care, Hayashi-san. It’s always going to be painful and it never really gets any easier, but whenever I see a former patient on the streets and they’re happy, healthy, brimming with life…it hurts a little less.”

 

* * *

 

“‘An actual goddess who deserves to have temples built in her honor,’ hmm?” Unohana asked, raising an eyebrow. “My, my. What did I do to deserve such praise?”

“For being able to scare literally anyone in the Seireitei, even Zaraki-taicho. For founding the Fourth Division. For putting up with me. Take your pick,” I said, grinning. “Either way, it’s true.”

“You think far too highly of me, Hisana,” she laughed softly. “I’m glad to see that the panel went well, though.”

“You think?” I asked dubiously. “I mean, I know you saw the last few minutes, but near the beginning…” I grimaced. “I took a gamble and that approach could have backfired very badly. In fact, I’m surprised Iemura-senpai didn’t try to stop me.”

“Iemura trusted that you knew what you were doing.” At my surprised look, she smiled slightly. “Don’t look so shocked. He respects you more than you know.”

“Huh,” I muttered, unsure what to think about that. “Still, I was worried for a moment there that I scared everyone off. I didn’t exactly paint our division in the best light.”

“Hisana, you made them listen to you. At the start of that panel, I doubt more than a few people in that audience saw healing as a serious profession, as anything more than a joke. I would rather gain that respect and lose a few applicants than the alternative,” Unohana stated firmly. “Besides, you were brutally honest, yes, but you were _genuine._ Healing can be ugly at times and you didn’t hide from that, but you showed them the beautiful parts as well. You made it _real,_ and from the sound of the applause, they appreciated that.”

 

* * *

 

“…and that’s it. Just a regular, post-mission physical. You’ll be glad to hear that your 8th seat is going to survive, none the worse for wear except for a few minor scrapes and bruises.” I paused for a moment. “How many times do I have to tell you that it isn’t necessary for me to brief you in person?”

“Just want ta be thorough,” Gin said, flashing a sunny smile at me. I scowled at him.

“Your dedication to your duty is admirable, but really, you’ll find that all the details are included in the reports we hand in,” I replied flatly.

“Oh, but I’d much rather hear it from ya than from a pile of borin’ paper. You’re much nicer to look at, for one,” he said, grinning. “Besides, I wanted ta check up on how you were doin’, what’s up in your life--”

“You want to know what’s up? Your time talking to me,” I grumbled, pushing past him only to stop short at the sight of Aizen Sousuke talking to a captain with long blond hair. Making a split second decision, I spun towards an alternative exit and made it approximately half a step before I was stopped by a vice-like grip on my shoulder.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t met my captain yet, have ya?” Gin asked cheerfully as he steered my unwilling body forward. “Come on now, don’t be shy. Hey Hirako-taicho, there’s someone I want ya to meet! And Aizen-fukutaicho’s here too—you remember Aizen-fukutaicho, don’t ya Hisana-chan?” The slight tightening of his hand revealed that he hadn’t forgotten my initial reaction to Aizen and I barely restrained from grimacing. Goddammit. Also, there went my five month long streak of managing to avoid the glasses-wearing megalomaniac.

_This may not be such a bad thing,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa murmured. _If nothing else, it’s an opportunity for you to convince Ichimaru that he was mistaken about your feelings regarding Aizen Sousuke._

_Shouldn’t be too hard,_ I thought with a touch of bitterness. _It’s not like I haven’t had practice playing nice with people I’d rather see dead. After all, I’m the ‘Angel of Inuzuri’, right? The girl who’ll heal anyone. Doesn’t matter if they raped ten girls in the past week or beat their wife to death or hell, kidnapped innocent children to experiment on them; as long as they stay away from my family, they’re still eligible for treatment._

_That was the price you had to pay for your family’s safety—you can’t blame yourself for that,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa cut in sharply. _Yes, you’ve treated terrible people with polite words and a smile on your face; so what? You’re not responsible for their actions. Just because you’re friendly with Aizen Sousuke, the man responsible for your sister’s near-execution in an alternate universe, doesn’t mean that you condone what he’s planning. No, that’s not you being a bad person; that’s you not being_ stupid.

There was a pause.

_You’re right,_ I said softly. _Of course you’re right. And if I have to escape suspicion by throwing myself into this act whole-heartedly, then that’s what I’ll do._

Now I just had to be convincing enough to fool two of the greatest manipulators the world had ever seen, people who had mastered the art of crafting masks over the course of centuries, who had tricked and outmaneuvered those far smarter than me. Sounded doable enough.

But first things first. Plastering a smile onto my face, I reached behind Gin’s back and pinched his side. Hard.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” I said blandly as Gin yelped, letting go of me as if burned. “Terribly sorry, but you know me. I’m just so clumsy.”

“Oh, that’s just lame, Hisana-chan,” he sent me an indignant look. “Ya could at least _try_ with the excuses.”

“What excuses? I speak only the truth. My hand always slips like that whenever some weirdo touches me without my permission. I think it’s a natural reflex; some kind of twitch, maybe.”

“Well, maybe ya should get that ‘twitch’ looked at, healer- _san._ I mean, I’m no medical expert—no, that’s your job—but I feel like that’s the kind of thing ya would—”

“Ahem.” Both Gin and I looked up to see Aizen staring at us pointedly, as Hirako stood to the side with an amused look on his face.

“Oh, you’re still here—? I mean, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Aizen-fukutaicho. I hope you’ve been well? And Hirako-taicho too,” I said, lips curling in an incredibly fake smile. It kind of hurt my face at that point. “What an honor.” _To meet the captain who pretty much lets Gin do whatever he wants, including harassing innocent Fourth Division interns. Yeah, it’s an honor, all right._

“Yukimura Hisana, huh?” Hirako drawled, causing me to twitch. “So you’re the one who’s been sending in all those harassment reports. Don’t ya think that—ah, what was it again?—oh yeah, nine reports is a bit excessive? You’re gonna give our division an awful reputation at this point.” At this, my eyes narrowed before I forced my expression into a vaguely contrite one.

“My deepest apologies if I’ve troubled you in any way, Hirako-taicho,” I said in a sugary-sweet tone that wasn’t quite able to mask the bite in my voice. “I had assumed that given the lack of any noticeable intervention regarding the subject of my reports—” For a moment, my gaze slid towards where Gin was watching the proceedings gleefully. “—that you simply weren’t receiving them. I see now that I was mistaken, and I will stop my actions immediately.” With that, I slipped into an apologetic bow before widening my eyes beseechingly. “Please forgive me for any inconvenience.”

For a moment, Hirako just stared at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Aizen hiding a smile behind his hand even as Gin’s grin widened a few notches.

“You’re a cheeky little brat, aren’t ya?” He said finally, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Hirako-taicho,” I answered, tilting my head to the side innocently.

“Sure ya don’t,” Hirako said wryly, cracking a reluctant smile. “But either way, ya seem ta have things well in hand. And Ichimaru may be annoyin’—” Both of us ignored the wounded noise Gin let out “—but he don’t bite.” At his words, I stiffened and shot Gin a dark glare.

“Yes, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I ground out through gritted teeth, one hand reaching up reflexively to rub my neck. Gin held his hands up in surrender.

“Hey now, don’t be blamin’ me for that, Hisana-chan. If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who started it.” I flushed an ugly red.

“It was self-defense!” I shouted, hands clenching into fists. Gin snorted.

“Oh yeah, blame me for try’na help by carryin’ your ungrateful ass back before ya fainted from exhaustion—”

“I wouldn’t have _fainted,_ you jerk; if _I_ remember correctly, I made it all the way back completely conscious, thank you very much—”

“Yeah, because I _carried_ ya most of the way—”

“Are they always like this?” Hirako muttered to Aizen.

“To the best of my knowledge, yes,” Aizen sighed.

“I wonder if we can start charging people ta watch them then. Say, ya wouldn’t happen ta have any popcorn on you, would ya?” I ignored them in favor of scowling at Gin.

“I never asked for your ‘help’! And besides, that still doesn’t change the fact that you bit me just to be petty, you stupid walnut!”

“It was only fair. Eye for an eye, ya know?” At my darkening glare, Gin let out a sigh. “Fine, fine, how ‘bout this. I swear I won’t bite ya again. Happy now?”

“You promise?” I asked, looking at him suspiciously. I couldn’t believe that this was an actual conversation I needed to have, but hey, that was Ichimaru Gin for you.

“Cross my heart,” Gin said, giving me a mock salute. He paused for a moment. “Unless, of course, ya want me to, which is an entirely different story. Just say the word, and I’d be happy ta oblige,” he leered. “I promise I won’t tell if you’re into that kinda stuff. It’ll be our little secret.”

“Gin—” Aizen began warningly.

“Why the hell would I _want_ you to bite me?” I demanded, feeling more than a little confused. “Do you have any idea how much bacteria is in the human mouth? Like, _hundreds of thousands.”_ Hirako, who’d just opened his mouth to admonish Gin, stilled.

“Wait a minute— _that’s_ the part ya have a problem with? The germs?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, yes. I mean, I know as shinigami we have a very small chance of getting an infection, but still, it’s just common sense to practice general sanitation,” I pointed out reasonably. Gin deflated.

“I don’t even know why I still bother. It’s like try’na tease a bag of rocks sometimes, I swear,” he said morosely.

“Are you calling me _dense?!”_

“You? Dense? Never,” Gin muttered sarcastically, before looking around. “Where’s Kuchiki? This is so much more fun ta do when he’s around.”

“Gin, if you’re goin’ ta single-handedly start an inter-division war, I’d really prefer if you’d wait until after I retire,” Hirako said exasperatedly, rubbing at his forehead. “For now, don’t ya have a mission ta prepare for?” I perked up.

“A mission?” I asked faux-casually. “Uh, just out of curiosity, how long would this mission last?” Gin grinned.

“Aww Hisana-chan, are ya goin’ ta miss me? That’s so sweet!” He crooned, slinging an arm over my shoulders while ignoring my irritated ‘Geroffme!’. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before ya know it. Aizen-fukutaicho and I just have ta take care of some weird hollow sightings in North Rukongai. Piece o’ cake.”

“Weird hollow sightings, huh?” I murmured, stilling. “Must be something for you of all people to call it strange, Ichimaru-san.” At my words, Aizen offered me a gentle smile.

“There have been reports of some unusually strong and intelligent hollows in that area, but you know how civilians exaggerate,” he said reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but even if it is…well, you have nothing to worry about, Yukimura-san.”

I hummed in thought, before narrowing my eyes. “Just make sure this idiot doesn’t die, will you?” I said abruptly, jabbing my thumb into Gin’s arm. His grip tightened briefly in surprise.

“What’s this? Why, is that _concern_ I’m detecting, Hisana-chan?” He asked slyly, recovering with admirable speed. I snorted.

“Hardly. It would just be so _unfair_ if some random hollow managed to kill you before I figured out a way to murder you myself,” I said sweetly, twisting out of his hold. “Aizen-fukutaicho, best of luck on your mission. Hirako-taicho…” I considered him for a moment. It would be mean of me to do this, to say the least, but hey, I had to get my enjoyment from somewhere. “Before you leave, uh, there’s something you should know,” I said quietly, fidgeting with the ends of my shirt. “I wasn’t going to say anything about this before, well, meeting you and uh, I’m still not really sure if I should be telling you this and crap, I’m going to be in so much trouble if she finds out I tipped you off—”

“Yukimura-san, calm down,” Hirako said, looking vaguely alarmed. “Start from the beginning.” I nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I had to go see Urahara-taicho the other day and I overheard Sarugaki-fukutaicho—well, it was kind of hard not to hear her, to be honest, she was pretty loud—and…um…let’s just say that she’s really mad at you. Normally I would consider this none of my business, but…” I grimaced and carefully averted my eyes.

“Wait, what? Hiyori’s pissed at me?” Hirako yelped in alarm. “What for? Wait, this isn’t about…” His voice trailed off as I nodded gravely.

“Still?” He sputtered. “I thought she was over that!”

“Hirako-taicho—” I sent him a pitying look, my voice politely disbelieving. “When have you ever known Sarugaki-fukutaicho to let go of a grudge?” Hirako’s face paled.

“Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks for telling me this, Yukimura-san. Ya wouldn’t happen ta know what she’s plannin’, would ya?”

“Well,” I paused delicately. “I might have, ah, heard her say something about ‘making the Baldy an actual Baldy,’ but, uh, I could be mistaken.” I winced, biting my lip. “Just in case though, I’d be careful about her getting access to any hair products of yours, sir.”

“Of course, of course,” he muttered distractedly. “Shit, that _does_ sound like somethin’ she’d do, doesn’t it? Well, thanks for the warning, Yukimura-san. I won’t forget this.” With that, he strode off mumbling something along the lines of ‘I wonder if Kyoraku’ll let me camp out at his place for a couple nights’ and ‘it’s about time I change my locks, anyway.’

“You just made that all up off the top of your head, didn’t you?” Aizen murmured next to my ear, causing me to jump. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. He’ll be paranoid for weeks.”

“I’m not—I’m not quite sure what you mean, Aizen-fukutaicho,” I bit my lip, looking up at him earnestly. “Lie? To a captain? I would _never_ —” I broke off mid-sentence, eyes widening as Aizen gently pressed a finger to my lips.

“Relax. I’m not going to give you away,” he said, chuckling. “I told you before, didn’t I? I wouldn’t be much of a lieutenant if I couldn’t appreciate a good prank, and that right there? That was nothing short of masterful.” Leaning forward, he added conspiratorially, “Just between us, I do think that he had it coming—there aren’t many captains who wouldn’t benefit from a small hit to their ego. My only regret is that I didn’t think of it myself.”

“I admit to nothing,” I said, biting my lip to prevent myself from smiling.

Although I’d spoken to Aizen before, it still caught me off guard sometimes how… _complete_ his mask was. The more I talked to him, the more I could see exactly why Hinamori Momo had fallen for him so easily. Honestly, had I not known what he was planning, I’d probably be just as enamored with him as the rest of Soul Society (and wasn’t that a disturbing thought?).

For a moment, I had a mental image of myself in Hinamori’s place, gazing at Aizen adoringly with starry eyes, and shuddered internally. Damn it, if I wanted nightmare fuel I’d go visit Kurotsuchi. Stupid brain.

_I assure you, even without your prior knowledge that would never happen. You’ve never blindly idolized anyone in your life,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said dryly. _Even with your captain, you still question her decisions. Starting with why she wears her braid in the front._

_It’s a legitimate question!_ I argued indignantly. _And I still don’t understand why Unohana-taicho does it—it’s so impractical! Doesn’t it get in the way?_

_As pressing as those issues are, I don’t believe now is the time to ponder them, little firebird,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said with a touch of exasperation. I blinked.

_Oh yeah. Right._

Turning my attention back to the conversation, I pouted at him, “Stop trying to get me into trouble by making me confess, Aizen-fukutaicho. It’s mean.”  

“I would never,” he said solemnly, although the slightly amused glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Not when I already know the truth. Come now, you and I both know that what you told Hirako-taicho never happened.”

“Okay, you caught me,” I said smiling, shrugging slightly. “Just out of curiosity though, may I ask what gave me away?”

“Ah.” Aizen smiled briefly. “Your body language was impeccable. Speech patterns and expressions, flawless. Your knowledge of Sarugaki’s character and your ability to read Hirako-taicho’s body language? Perfect. There was just one problem.” He paused. “You didn’t play true to your _own_ character.”

Whatever I was expecting, that wasn’t it.

“Eh?” I asked eloquently. Aizen’s smile widened a fraction.

“See, the thing is, you don’t have a submissive bone in your body, do you?” He asked softly. “While playing the docile, meek role may be expected for someone in your position, it doesn’t suit you. And much like someone wearing an ill-fitted coat, it shows. That act would have never been enough to fool anyone with any real understanding of your personality. Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have been half as tentative about it. Am I right?”

“That’s not true,” I protested, ignoring Tenshi no Tsubasa’s mutter of _stop it, you’re proving his point_. “I can totally be submissive! I mean, I can follow orders perfectly fine.” I stopped for a moment to think about what I just said. “Well. Mostly. Assuming that the orders aren’t stupid.” At Aizen’s pointed look, I grimaced. “I’m not helping my case, am I?”

“Not at all,” he chuckled.

“So apparently I have such a huge authority problem that even when I _do_ try to play along, it’s not believable. Well, doesn’t that sound ominous for my future career aspirations,” I mused. “A lowly, unranked shinigami who’s awful at following the rules. That’s a first.”

Aizen let out a soft laugh. “I hardly think you have anything to worry about Yukimura-san, but in case you do, just say the word and I’d be happy to offer you a place with us. Your company would be a welcome addition.”

“Mmm, well I suppose it’s reassuring to hear that I’ll have someplace to go besides the Fourth in case my Academy instructors finally get fed up with me and kick me out. Wouldn’t blame them either; you weren’t…entirely wrong about the insubordination thing,” I admitted, even as I struggled to control my expression. Hah, join the Fifth Division? Not a chance in hell.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Refusing to mindlessly follow orders is a good thing—it’s one of the signs of having a brain. Something that I, for one, value very much,” he teased lightly. I felt my cheeks heat up slightly, feeling a bit flustered despite myself.

“I’m not sure everyone would see it that way, Aizen-fukutaicho, but I’m grateful for the compliment nonetheless,” I murmured. “At the very least, my self-confidence thanks you for it.”

  _Charming, isn’t he?_ Tenshi no Tsubasa murmured in my head.

_Remarkably so,_ I agreed quietly. It was scary, really, how… _likeable_ Aizen Sousuke could be. Similar to Akiyama in a way, but Akiyama had never had Aizen’s gift of knowing exactly what to say. With his warm eyes, kind expression, and great sense of humor, the guy standing in front of me had charisma in spades. Pity he wasn’t real—I could almost see us becoming friends.

Refocusing on the conversation, I added cheekily, “I should keep you around more often, Aizen-fukutaicho. To boost my ego, if nothing else.”

“It would be my honest pleasure,” he winked at me. “Feel free to drop by the Fifth anytime, Yukimura-san. Gin and I would be delighted to receive you.” Glancing at his watch, he winced and offered me an apologetic look. “I hate to be so abrupt, but—”

“—you have duties you need to attend to,” I finished, waving him off. “I understand. Go, go, don’t be late on my account. Your responsibilities come first.”

I waited until I could no longer sense his reiatsu before turning to the silent presence next to me. “You’ve been oddly quiet so far,” I commented. “Is something wrong, Ichimaru-san?”

Gin studied me for a moment longer before shaking his head. “Nothin’. Just try’na figure ya out, that’s all.”

“Shouldn’t be that hard. After all, your lieutenant managed to accurately analyze my personality after only speaking to me twice,” I said, hiding my unease behind a slightly disgruntled tone.

“Yeah, well, Aizen-fukutaicho’s different. Glad ta see that the two of you are gettin’ along well, though. You seemed ta have taken quite a shine to him,” Gin observed, voice deceptively casual. I tilted my head up, looking towards the sky.

“What’s not to like?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek as my lips curved up into a wry smile. A metallic tang flooded my mouth—blood and something that tasted rather like irony. “He seems like the perfect guy.”

 

* * *

 

“Hisana-nee! Hisana-nee! Look!” I glanced down to see Ganju holding up a flower crown proudly, grinning from ear to ear. “Nee-san helped me make it!”

“It’s beautiful, Ganji-kun,” I said smiling, bending down to inspect it more closely. It was mostly dandelions strung together, although I noticed a few wild daisies thrown in as well.

“Really?” He asked, ducking his head shyly. “Do you think he’ll like it then?”

“Who?”

“That guy over there! Talking to nii-san!” He said blushing, motioning in Kaien’s direction. I blinked as I saw who he was pointing at. “He’s _really_ pretty.”

Biting my lip in an effort to maintain a serious expression, I reached out and ruffled his hair. “I’m sure he’ll love it, Ganju-kun,” I said soothingly. “In fact, why don’t you go over there right now and give it to him?” He hesitated for a moment before nodding firmly.

“Okay! If you say so, Hisana-nee.” With that, he ran over to where Byakuya was standing—almost bumping into Kaien in his haste to get there—and promptly thrust the slightly-wilted flower crown up for Byakuya’s approval. My expression softened and a helplessly fond smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I saw Byakuya kneel down solemnly, allowing Ganju to place the crown on his head with all the dignity of someone being knighted.

The sound of a muffled laugh caused me to look up, and I raised an eyebrow when I saw Miyako giggling at me, one hand covering her mouth.

"What?” I asked, bemused.

“Nothing. It’s just—” She took a moment to compose herself, although her eyes still sparkled with amusement. “You looked really…”

“Sappy and pathetic, huh?” I asked wryly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You can say it, I won’t be offended.”

“In love,” she finished. “You look like you’re in love.” She offered me a gentle smile. “He looks at you the same way, you know. And I’ve said this before, but I’m really happy that he found you. I know not everyone may agree with me, but don’t listen to what those idiots say. You two are good for each other—anyone can see that, if they only take the time to look.”

I swallowed, throat suddenly feeling a bit tight. “Thank you. For saying that.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just telling you what you already know,” she said kindly. “Now, he’s coming with you next week when you go home to visit your family, right?” I nodded.

“I told him he didn’t need to, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Something about ‘obtaining familial blessings’ and ‘honor’ and ‘no way I’m letting you travel seventy-eight districts by yourself’, I don’t know. I just gave in at that point,” I admitted. “Eiji’s coming as well.”

“You must be excited to see your family again,” Miyako mused. “I have to say, I’m looking forward to meeting Rukia-chan and Renji-kun. Especially Rukia-chan. I know Ukitake-taicho’s planning to keep an eye on her.”

“Yeah?” I turned to face her, slightly puzzled. “I mean, that’s great—I know she’ll be a fantastic shinigami—but why Rukia in particular?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Miyako laughed. “She has to be something special if she’s related to you, right? I know I’m certainly not the only one curious to see how she’ll turn out.”

 

* * *

 

Interlude

Gin stared bemusedly at the muffin sitting on his desk. It had been waiting for him in his office this morning—freshly baked, still warm from the oven, and almost comically out of place.

He didn’t think he’d ever received a muffin in his life.

As if to add to how surreal the whole situation was, there was a note lying on the table next to it. Picking it up, Gin’s lips twitched involuntarily as he skimmed through its contents.

_Dandelion-head,_

_If I bake you a muffin a day, will you stay away? Given that after you receive this, you’ll be going on a mission for two weeks, I remain cautiously optimistic._

_Signed,_

_A mostly-good person who doesn’t deserve you popping up all the time like an annoying weed_

_P.S. I included carrots in the muffin. I hear that they’re good for the eyes so if you eat more of them, maybe you’ll stop squinting all the time like a demented scarecrow._

“What’s that? Someone sent you a muffin?” At the sound of Aizen’s slightly disbelieving voice, Gin let his expression slip back into his default mocking one.

“Ouch, Aizen-fukutaicho, I’m hurt. Is it really so surprising for someone ta send little ol’ me a going-away gift?” Gin asked, clutching his heart in faux-pain.

“It’s blueberry,” Aizen said slowly.

“And?”

“You’re mildly allergic to blueberries.”

“Could be an accident,” Gin pointed out cheerfully. “I mean, that little tidbit’s not exactly common knowledge.”

“Could be, but I don’t think so. After all, they obviously know you on a personal level to some extent,” Aizen mused, nodding towards the note in Gin’s hand. “But who would—ah, of course. Yukimura-san. Precious little thing, isn’t she?” There was an amused note in his voice that Gin didn’t like.

“Ya think so?”  

“Mmm. I admit, you were right about her. She’s definitely proven that she has potential,” Aizen murmured thoughtfully.

“You’re thinkin’ about takin’ her in, then?” Gin asked carefully. He...wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

There had been a moment, that first day they’d met before her masks came down, where he’d thought he’d seen something like terrified loathing flash across her face after hearing Aizen’s name. It had been what had captured his interest in the first place, and why he’d been so eager to see them interact a second time.

But there had been no trace of that wariness, that _fear_ in yesterday’s conversation, despite the fact that she’d had Aizen’s undivided attention on her. In fact, she’d seemed downright charmed, to the point where Gin couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow completely misread her that first day. Granted, it _could_ just be that she was better prepared this time around, but try as he might, Gin couldn’t detect any signs of dislike coming from her. Hell, she’d seemed to hold a heavier grudge against _Hirako_ than Aizen.

Could it be that in some bizarre coincidence, she’d met some other Aizen who had done her wrong? After all, she hadn’t reacted to Aizen until she’d heard his name, and aside from that one fraction of a second, she’d shown no signs of being uncomfortable in his presence. But if that was the case…if it was the _name_ and not the _person_ that had caused her to react so strangely at the Academy orientation…then she’d have no reason to suspect Aizen of any wrongdoing.

He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

“I wasn’t planning on it, no,” Aizen mused. “She’s a bit too headstrong for my taste. Not only that, she has several strong attachments that would be troublesome to break. Interesting case she might be, I can’t really say that she’s worth the effort.” He paused, a contemplative look crossing his features. “Then again, she seems like she has some fairly large issues with how the current system is run. It might be fun to explore that. Nothing drastic, not at this point, just…a little push here and there to open her mind a bit, encourage her to consider other perspectives.”

“She ain’t like Kaname. She won’t stray from her moral code,” Gin warned.

“You of all people should know that there are ways of getting around that,” Aizen chided. “I’m not saying that it’d be easy Gin, but it’s certainly not impossible. Besides,” he quirked a smile, plucking the muffin off Gin’s desk and taking a bite. “I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

“That was mine, ya know,” Gin said as he motioned towards the confection in Aizen’s hand, voice just a tad too sharp. Aizen glanced at him, frowning, before realization dawned on his features.

“Ah. I think I see what the problem is now. Relax, Gin,” he chuckled, polishing off the rest of the muffin before making his way to the door. “This is just a harmless little side project of mine. I have no intention of damaging any of your toys beyond repair.”

“Right,” Gin murmured to himself as Aizen’s reiatsu faded into the distance. _A toy. She’s just a toy, like all the others. Replaceable._

For some reason, the words felt oddly hollow.

* * *

 

Omake

“Hey, you’ve got a little, uh, something on your neck,” I pointed out awkwardly. Miyako’s eyes widened, one hand automatically flying up to cover the vivid red mark.

“Oh no. I’d completely forgotten about that,” she said, cheeks reddening. “I’m so sorry Yukimura-san. You must think me horribly unprofessional.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong,” I said faintly, staring at the faded bite marks against Miyako’s pale skin. “Just—you might want to tell Shiba-fukutaicho to concentrate his enthusiasm on somewhere…less visible.”

“Of course. I’ll speak to him tonight, and thank you for being so understanding. Oh, this is so embarrassing—”

I wasn’t listening to her anymore though, because at that moment a memory from a couple days ago resurfaced in my head.

_Fine, fine, I won’t bite ya again. Unless, of course, ya want me to. Just say the word, and I’d be happy ta oblige._

Realization dawned on me with all the subtlety of an anvil to the head. “That _asshole!”_


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have not written in Mitsuo's POV before so this should be interesting...but seriously he is the real MVP in this chapter

Kazuki was, without a doubt, one of the people Mitsuo respected most in the world. Underneath his carefree charm lay a brilliant mind and a ruthless practicality, and his ability to get information out of people without them even knowing surpassed even Tatsuya’s. There was honestly no one else he’d rather have at his back in a fight.

Nonetheless, there were days where Mitsuo seriously questioned if his brother-in-everything-but-blood was born a bit brain damaged.

“You and Kaori had another fight, huh?” He asked dryly, watching as Kazuki winked flirtatiously at a rather pretty girl. “That’s, what, the tenth free drink you’ve handed out tonight? If Kaori doesn’t kill you for the flirting, you’ll be dead once she hears how much money you wasted.” At that, Kazuki flinched minutely before recovering with impressive aplomb.

“Nonsense! Once she sees how many people would be interested in sleeping with me and realizes how lucky she is that I chose her, she’ll definitely appreciate me more,” he said confidently. Mitsuo stared at him for a long moment.

“How you’re popular with the ladies, I’ll never know,” he answered finally. Kazuki grinned at him.

“It’s a gift, my friend. Now, pineapple-brat,” he began, turning to where Renji was sitting and ignoring the indignant scowl he got in return. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to give you a few tips for when you grow up a litt—well, a lot—and become a man. God knows you’re going to need all the help you can get and while I personally don’t care if you end up in a relationship with your right hand and a bottle of lotion, it might reflect badly on me if--”

It was hard to tell whose expression looked the most amusing, Mitsuo mused to himself as Renji jumped up and began sputtering indignantly, his face turning an unflattering tomato red that clashed dreadfully with his hair. Next to him, Rukia looked comically scandalized, her nose wrinkled the way it did every time sex and other ‘gross adult activities’ came up.

“The day I take advice from you is the day I offer myself up to the nearest hollow, you jerk!” Renji growled.

“Yeah, stop being gross, Kazuki-nii,” Rukia grumbled. “Or else I’m telling Kaori-nee-san that you were flirting with girls again.”

“Aww Rukia, don’t be a tattletale,” Kazuki whined. “Come on, it’s just a bit of harmless fun. You know I’d never actually _do_ anything.”

“Uh-huh. And what do I get out of it if I stay quiet?” Rukia asked, casting a speculative look at the older man. Mitsuo couldn’t help but sigh, wistfully thinking back to the days before Kazuki and Kaori had taught her the power of blackmail. _They grow up so fast,_ he thought to himself nostalgically.

“Yeah Kazuki, what do we get if we stay quiet?” Renji added eagerly.

“Well,” Kazuki began, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, an amused gleam in his eyes. “You know, I _was_ trying out this cool cocktail recipe the other day. Brand new—not even Kaori has tried it out yet, but I think I may be able to whip up a batch if, you know, you could be persuaded to keep your mouths shut…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“Deal,” Renji said immediately.

“Seconded,” Rukia said quickly. Kazuki smiled.

“Alright then. Now remember, not a word to anyone--”

 “I leave for a few months and you’re already handing alcohol out to the kids. For shame, Kazuki,” a familiar voice said mildly from behind them. Mitsuo noted the way Kazuki paled and the kids froze up like amateur thieves caught in the act with amusement before stepping forward to greet the figure who’d just entered the bar.

“Hisana,” he said warmly, reaching out to embrace her tightly. “Welcome back.” Leaning down, he added, “Fantastic timing, by the way. I’m impressed.” Hisana laughed, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“What can I say? I got lucky.” She stepped back and Mitsuo could pinpoint the exact second her eyes landed on Rukia because her expression softened into something almost unbearably tender.

“Hey imouto,” she said softly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I…I can’t believe you’re back,” Rukia murmured, voice shaking slightly. “It’s been so long.”

“I know,” Hisana replied. She took a step forward before pausing, opening her arms the slightest bit. Apparently that was all the invitation Rukia needed because she bounded forward, wrapping both arms around her sister in a stranglehold as Hisana leaned down, burying her face in Rukia’s hair.

When Hisana’s shoulders started to shake, Mitsuo and Kazuki exchanged looks before glancing away in mutual agreement. Clasping Renji’s shoulder with one hand, he gently led him out of the bar, Kazuki right behind them. Some things, he’d found, were too intimate to watch.

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them?!” Renji asked in flabbergasted dismay, staring at the two rather similar-looking men in front of him.

“Language,” Hisana and Kuchiki (the older one) said automatically, causing Mitsuo to glance at them with interest. Maybe it was only to be expected given that they’d likely spent a great deal of the past six months in each other’s company, but he couldn’t help but notice that they were in sync on a level they hadn’t been before. Judging by Kazuki’s narrowed eyes and Kaori’s pursed lips, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

“You manage to practically clone yourself and I’m not allowed to express a bit of surprise? Where’s the fairness in that?” Renji grumbled.

“Renji has a point. Ugh, one Oni-sensei was bad enough,” Rukia sulked. The younger Kuchiki choked.

“Don’t be rude,” Hisana chided, cuffing her sister lightly on the back of the head.

“It’s fine, Hisana-san. Honestly, I’m more concerned about the fact that they seem to think I look like a clone of my cousin. I don’t look that old, do I?” He asked lightly, causing Miwa to giggle and Renji to crack a reluctant smile. At least this one was better with kids, Mitsuo thought to himself wryly. Although the fact that he had no interest in getting into Hisana’s pants probably helped.

“Don’t worry Eiji-kun, no one could mistake you for Byakuya. You’re far prettier than he is,” she grinned.

“Is that so?” Byakuya asked, a glint of humor in his eyes. “You find him more attractive than me, Hisana?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hisana said solemnly, although the faint twitch of her mouth betrayed her. “Of course,” she added, twirling a strand of hair around, “if you wanted to try to change my mind, I mean…I’m open to suggestions.”

At that, Miwa’s eyes went very, very wide while Renji let out a strangled sound. Rukia swallowed heavily. Mitsuo palmed his face in exasperation—subtle, those two were not.

The problem, he thought to himself tiredly, wasn’t the flirting. The flirting had been going on since practically the moment those two met, if unintentionally. The minor tendency to forget about anyone else in the room? The crippling sexual tension? That, too, had been going on for months.

What was new was how… _intentional_ it all was. Before, there had always been a line that they’d silently agreed not to cross. There was none of that restraint now.

“Something you want to tell us, Hisana?” Kazuki asked, voice deceptively casual. Hisana seemed to realize she’d given herself away because she swallowed, a hint of trepidation flickering across her features. Then her expression firmed and she very deliberately reached down to grip Byakuya’s hand.

“A few weeks ago, Byakuya asked to court me. I accepted,” she said, gaze steady. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitsuo noticed Eiji slip out the door. Smart man.

“Before you say anything, I would like you to know that I have every intention of taking this relationship seriously,” Kuchiki added as Kazuki’s expression turned stormy. “I regret that I could not discuss the matter with you beforehand, as is proper, but please know that I will give your sister every ounce of love and respect she deserves. I know that our time here is limited, but I do hope to earn your blessings by the end of our visit. And Rukia—” He hesitated. “I know that this must be uncomfortable for you and I understand if you never want to call me brother, but just know that I…I would be honored to one day call you my sister.” For a moment Rukia blinked rapidly before she ducked her head and looked away.

“Stop saying stupid stuff, Oni-sensei,” she growled. “You’d be the most annoying big brother in the world.” But she wasn’t saying no, and judging by the slight softening of Kuchiki’s expression, he’d caught that.

“Kazuki?” Hisana asked as the silence dragged on too long again. “Say something. Please.”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked finally. “You found a new family after being gone a measly six months _—_ I mean, a courtship, that’s pretty serious right? Who knows, maybe in a few years you’ll even be ‘Kuchiki Hisana.’ Gotta admit, it has a nice ring to it. Prestigious, impressive, unmistakably aristocratic—what more could you want?” Hisana flinched and for a moment it looked like she was holding back tears.

“You fucking _asshole,”_ she hissed, causing all three kids to flinch. Mitsuo couldn’t even remember the last time she’d sworn in front of them. “You think that just because I fell in love, I’ll end up replacing you? That I’ll forget all about you, trade you in for Byakuya’s just because his family happens to be rich?” What was left of her composure cracked and angry tears started running down her cheeks. “Kazuki, did you ever know me at all?!” At the deafening silence that remained, she wiped her eyes in frustration. “I don’t have time for this; I’m only here for a week and a half and I’m not going to waste it fighting with you. Byakuya, let’s go; I have a district’s worth of patients I want to check in on.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rukia said, getting to her feet. She was also glaring daggers at Kazuki and Mitsuo wondered how long it’d be before the Yukimura siblings forgave him. Neither Hisana nor Rukia could hold a grudge when it came to those they cared about, but at the same time, Kazuki was doing a mighty fine job of digging himself into a hole.

“Same,” Renji added. His eyes swept over the room to see Kazuki sitting sullenly in a corner, Kaori carefully not making eye contact with anyone, and Miwa trying to blend into the wall. “Good luck, man,” he whispered to Mitsuo. Mitsuo sighed before heading off to the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of sake. He’d known things had been…strained after Hisana’s abrupt and slightly coerced departure, to say the least, but he hadn’t known things had become this bad. That was the problem with being a family full of people who were experts at concealing their true emotions; things had a bad tendency of getting pushed aside until everything blew up in their faces.

 

* * *

 

“I’m an idiot,” Kazuki said. It’d taken half a bottle of sake to get him to admit this much, but it was alcohol well spent, in Mitsuo’s opinion.

“Yes you are,” he agreed, pouring him another cup. “Now, would you care to tell me what all that was about back there?” When Kazuki didn’t say anything, Mitsuo sighed.

“I know it wasn’t about Kuchiki finally growing the balls to ask Hisana out,” he said dryly. “For heaven’s sake, we had a bet going on when it’d finally happen. Half of Inuzuri did. And if I remember correctly, _you_ bet that they’d get together around Hisana’s eightieth birthday next April. A bit off in your estimate, sure, but not enough for you to overreact that way.” Kazuki was silent for a moment.

“It’s just…you remember what Miwa said right after Hisana left?” He asked. “She said…she said ‘Hisana’s gonna keep coming back, right?’ And at the time I thought it was the dumbest question ever because of course she would. It’s _Hisana._ But then I was talking to one of my customers the other day and we got to talking about Hisana and he brought up the fact that, well, no one who goes to the Seireitei ever comes back, do they? At least, not for long.”

“You’re afraid of losing them,” Mitsuo stated. It wasn’t a question. Kazuki tipped back another cup of sake.

“I mean, think about it. Seventy-eight districts—that’s no easy distance to travel, even for a shinigami. And with Rukia leaving as well, there goes her biggest reason for returning. Plus, who in their right mind would _want_ to come back to this hellhole when they have the _Seireitei_ as an option? No one, that’s who,” he snorted.

“It’s home,” Mitsuo said softly. Kazuki glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and scoffed.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Mitsuo. It’s _familiar,_ that’s what it is. I’ve been here for over a hundred years and I know it like the back of my hand; I know the people, I know who’s a threat, I know exactly who I am here. And I know it’s the same reason you won’t leave. The same reason Kaori won’t leave,” he said. “People like us, who’ve grown up learning that change is dangerous, we’re not so good at adapting. At leaving. But Hisana and the kids, they’ve don’t have that problem, do they? Especially now that they’ve gotten strong enough that they don’t need us anymore.”

“You’re here. As am I and Kaori and Miwa. Don’t you think that’s enough reason for Hisana and Rukia to come back?” Mitsuo questioned.

“That’s what I told myself in the beginning. But the thing is, for all that I knew that Rukia would become a shinigami someday, I never prepared myself for Hisana leaving. Stupid, right? And then she gets herself kidnapped for a damn month and when we finally, _finally_ get her back, she tells us she’s leaving not five minutes later and that we won’t see her for half a year. And I know how these things work; right now it might be a visit per year, but how long is it gonna be before work gets in the way and it becomes one visit every few years? A visit every ten? I can’t do a visit every ten years, Mitsuo. I’ll miss them too much.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mitsuo said sharply. “Even Kuchiki managed a visit once every few months; I have no doubt that Hisana will be able to manage at least that much once she’s out of school.”

“And logically, I know that you’re probably right. But I won’t deny that it was easier to keep that in mind when I knew that she didn’t even _want_ to become a shinigami.”

“Ah. The letters,” Mitsuo said in sudden understanding.

“I…underestimated just how well she’d fit in. I mean, I don’t know what she wrote to you but she sounded so _happy_ in mine. The foremost expert in healing kido taking her under her wing, a promising position at work, access to all the knowledge she wants, new friends, and now the very real possibility that she’ll become the future lady of one of the five greater noble houses. It’s like, everything she has here, she has there but _better,_ you know?” Mitsuo was quiet for a moment.

“Hisana was right. You really don’t know her at all, do you? Or, you’ve forgotten,” he said. Kazuki glared at him.

“The fuck are you talking about? Of course I know her. She’s my sister.”

“No, you don’t,” Mitsuo said quietly. “Because if you did, you’d know that Hisana’s never given a damn about who’s ‘better’.” He paused just before leaving the room. “I know that you’re scared of losing her and Rukia, but pushing them away isn’t the solution. And it may be true that they don’t need you anymore, but place a bit of trust in them, will you? That you mean more to them than what they can get out of you.”

 

* * *

 

“So, you’ve come to talk to me too, huh?” Kaori said dryly, looking up from her book. “This is rather unfair, you know. I didn’t even _say_ anything.”

“But you’re not happy with it,” Mitsuo said quietly.

“No,” Kaori agreed. “But unlike Kazuki, I have no intention of openly protesting their relationship. Don’t worry, Mitsuo, I accepted the possibility that this would happen years ago.”

“So you’re more or less fine with it,” Mitsuo said dubiously.

“If by that, you mean that I don’t plan on fighting it, then yes,” she answered, before her lips thinned. “Besides, I have no doubt that Hisana has enough of that to deal with from _his_ side of the family. The last thing I want is to add to her stress.”

“You know, Kazuki seems to be worried about losing his place in Hisana’s life,” he said. “Has he talked about this to you at all?” Kaori snorted.

“ _Kazuki_ is still coming to terms with the fact that his little sister doesn’t need him to protect her anymore,” she replied, lips twisting wryly. “Not that she’s needed him to protect her for a while now.”

“I’ll say,” Mitsuo said, smiling a little. “Remember that one guy who came in claiming ‘unusually prolonged arousal’? She gave him a specialized herbal tea to help and he _still_ wouldn’t leave, kept asking that she give him a hands-on examination ‘just to make sure.’” Kaori laughed, delighted.

“I’d almost forgotten about that! Yeah I remember—she told him that she was sorry, but that unfortunately there was no cure for ‘abnormally small penises.’ I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve seen ever seen a man’s ego crushed so fast.”

“She’s always had a bit of a sharp tongue, hasn’t she?” Mitsuo said, glancing at Kaori. “Learned from the best, I suppose.” The faintest glimmer of pride entered Kaori’s eyes, before she looked away.

“Yeah. Seeing her leave again will be…hard. I’m really going to miss her.” She glanced at him speculatively. “You know, you’ve been taking all of this awfully well. You’re really that fine with it? With the whole shinigami thing? Hisana and Kuchiki? Everything?”

“Of course I have my concerns, but you can’t deny that Kuchiki loves her and as for Hisana becoming a shinigami, she seems happy enough with it. If I didn’t have a problem with Rukia wanting to become a shinigami, it’d be a little hypocritical to be upset about Hisana doing so, right?” He shrugged.

“Well yes, but becoming a shinigami has been Rukia’s dream for…well, decades. Hisana’s different—she was happy here, _with us,_ before she was all but forced into becoming one. How can you be okay with that?” Kaori asked, frowning.

“As far as I’m concerned, Hisana’s the only one with any right to complain and if she isn’t going to…” His voice trailed off as Kaori’s eyes narrowed.

“When’s the last time you saw Hisana complain on her own behalf, Mitsuo? Patient comes to her at two in the morning high out of their mind? She’ll rant for half an hour on the drug trade in the district, but she won’t say a word about having her rest disturbed. Some drunkard wants to yell at her for not managing to save their dumbass son that got themselves ripped apart in a hollow attack? Same thing happens; she won’t speak up until one of us gets mentioned. She’d work herself to death if we weren’t around to stop her. And honestly, it’s only a matter of time before one of those shinigami figures that out too, if they haven’t already.” She looked at him intently. “You’ve seen it too, haven’t you Mitsuo?”

“I have,” he said frowning. On the surface, Hisana seemed completely fine, but that wasn’t quite true, was it? The signs were subtle but they all added up—how she looked just a little paler, a little wearier, a little thinner—to form a Hisana who looked, overall, just a little more worn.

“It’s been _six months_ and she still hasn’t fully recovered from what that bastard Akiyama did to her,” Kaori whispered. “I don’t care how many fancy scarves Kuchiki buys her, it doesn’t hide the fact that she’s still thinner than she should be and despite the fact that those shinigami have _hundreds_ of healers, she’s more tired than she was when she was the only competent healer in a ten-district radius. And that’s the problem I have with Kuchiki, Mitsuo—it isn’t that I don’t think he cares for Hisana because any moron with half a brain could tell that the man’s head over heels for her, but he just doesn’t _get it._  Get that when she cares about someone—and she cares far, far too easily—she will give and give and give until there is nothing of herself left. It’s the same way with Rukia; both of them are too selfless for their own good. And the question that terrifies me, that I don’t know the answer to, is—how much are the shinigami gonna take? And until I know the answer to that question, how can I possibly trust Hisana and Rukia with them?”

 

* * *

 

“Tea?” Mitsuo asked casually. After a brief pause, Kuchiki inclined his head in confirmation. Taking a seat, Mitsuo poured out two cups before passing one over.

“Likely not the quality you’re used to, I expect,” he said, after a moment of silence.

“It’s fine,” Kuchiki said shortly, one hand clenching around the rim of the cup. He didn’t take a sip. Mitsuo studied him thoughtfully for a moment.

“Kaori spoke to you, huh?” He asked finally, before taking Kuchiki’s silence as a confirmation. “I wasn’t sure if she would, but I’m glad she did in the end. I think you needed to hear what she had to say.” When Kuchiki still didn’t answer, he sighed.

“What she said—”

“—is true,” Kuchiki cut him off. “I have failed…miserably in taking care of her.”

“She’s not an easy person to take care of,” Mitsuo pointed out. “To the point where even she has trouble taking care of herself. It’s part of the reason why Kaori is so protective of her. Why we all are.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better. Kaori, Kazuki, and I, we’ve had decades of practice and there’ve definitely been some difficult moments. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but Hisana can be…fiercely independent at times.”

“Just a little,” Kuchiki said dryly, before turning to study him closely. “You’re helping me. Why?” Mitsuo shrugged, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hisana and I, we have a deal. Anyone who survives the screening process would have my blessing. You passed,” he said lightly. “To be honest, you passed a while ago; anyone who survives the kids, Kaori, and Kazuki at their worst and keeps coming back for more has my respect, at the very least. Besides,” he added. “You make my little sister happier than I’ve seen anyone but Rukia make her. As far as I’m concerned, that makes you…well, not exactly worthy of her, but pretty damn close.”

“I—thank you.” Kuchiki’s voice was a little shaky, which Mitsuo suspected was due to his vocal cords trying to convey too much emotion at once. He looked…startlingly young like this, Mitsuo observed with some surprise. He hadn’t really noticed before but Kuchiki was barely out of his teens, wasn’t he?

“Don’t worry, the others will come around soon. Honestly, we all saw it coming; it’s just taking a while to really register. Renji will grumble for a couple days, but it’s mostly for show. Miwa may not like it, but she won’t say anything. Kazuki…” Mitsuo pursed his lips. “Believe it or not, it’s not really you he has a problem with. He doesn’t like change and within the week, a sizable portion of his family will be taken from him. Don’t take it personally; for the most part, you’re just a convenient target for him to lash out at.”

“And Rukia?” Kuchiki asked hesitantly. “She seemed cautiously receptive before, but…” Mitsuo could see why he was so anxious—if Rukia was truly, honestly against their relationship, well…

“Just don’t expect her to call you ‘onii-sensei’ anytime soon and she’ll be fine. Her words,” Mitsuo said, lips twitching at the sigh of relief Kuchiki released.

“One last thing, since we’re on the subject of Rukia,” Mitsuo said, draining the last of his tea. “Keep a close eye on her, will you? It’ll be her first time experiencing such a different environment—her first time going out of Inuzuri, actually—and I’m…worried about her.”

“Of course,” Kuchiki said, looking startled. “But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you--”

“Asking you and not Hisana?” One side of his lips quirked up. “I have no doubt that Hisana would do just about anything for Rukia, but when it comes to some things…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “There’s something you need to understand. Hisana figured out how to channel her spiritual energy when she’d been in the afterlife for less than a year. At the one year mark, she was already experimenting with using healing reiatsu.” He smiled wryly at Kuchiki’s slightly-widened eyes. “She didn’t tell you that, did she? Well, fifteen years after she arrived she took her first outside patient—at this point, she was already fairly proficient with healing minor to moderate cuts and bruises, as well as cracked bones. Two years after she opened her clinic, she negotiated a deal with a mob boss for the first time.” Mitsuo chuckled humorlessly. “It was an utterly ridiculous scene. There she was, this tiny slip of a girl who wasn’t even properly in her teens yet, facing down a hardened criminal and telling him that no, she would not work exclusively for him, but would be happy to treat any of his members who walked in the door. What was even more ridiculous? She got him to agree. Ten years into her business, there wasn’t a single person in Inuzuri who didn’t know her name and face. Fifteen years into it? Not only did they know her but they also knew _us,_ and it was a rare day she didn’t walk home with some free fruits and vegetables some neighbor had insisted she take. She was nicknamed the Angel of Inuzuri for a reason, Kuchiki—people practically _worshipped_ her and who could blame them when she kept their loved ones from dying?” Mitsuo twirled his empty tea cup around.

“And Rukia…for the most part, Rukia grew up never knowing danger. I don’t think you understand just how much of a privilege that is in a place like this, to know that you’ll never have to worry about being attacked or threatened. Until Hisana came along, I wasn’t even aware that kind of safety _could_ exist. But of course, that kind of privilege—being the Angel of Inuzuri’s beloved little sister—has a price. Hisana will never understand how crushing the weight of someone else’s shadow can be—of course not, she’s never experienced it, not like Miwa, not like Rukia—but…you do, don’t you? You know how heavy a legacy can be,” Mitsuo said softly.

Lips twisting at the look of dawning comprehension on Kuchiki’s face, he added, “Becoming a shinigami was supposed to be Rukia’s escape, you know. Not that she’d ever admit it, or that she needed an escape from anything. But it was supposed to be _her_ thing, her chance to prove herself, where people would get to know her for _her_ instead of just as ‘Hisana’s little sister.’” He was silent for a moment. “Tell me, Kuchiki, does Hisana burn as bright over there as she does here?”

“Brighter,” Kuchiki said quietly. Mitsuo let out a tired sigh.

“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. That is…in her nature, after all.” He looked down at his empty tea cup. “Take care of them for me, will you? Especially Rukia—she and Hisana love each other and nothing will ever change that, but you can love someone and resent them at the same time. I don’t want that to happen to them.” 

 

* * *

 

“So,” Mitsuo said, walking up to stand next to the younger Kuchiki. “I’m going to take a guess here and hope that this means my brother finally got his head out of his ass and apologized?”

“I think so. I mean, she hasn’t attacked him yet. Also, she seems to have moved out of her ‘frosty anger’ phase into her ‘overly emotional’ phase, which, in my experience, can only be a good sign,” Eiji replied as he squinted in an attempt to get a better look. “Ouch, never mind, she’s pounding on his chest but now they’re…hugging?” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand her.”

“Take my advice and don’t even try,” Mitsuo said, a touch sardonically. He glanced at the teenager next to him. “I take it you’re one of those kids she rescued a while back?”

“That would be correct,” Eiji confirmed, expression softening as he looked back towards where Hisana was now proudly showing off her zanpakuto to a reluctantly-impressed looking Kazuki. “She saved my life.”

“Yes, she does that,” Mitsuo said wryly.

“Oh? Did she save you too?” Eiji asked curiously, looking up at him.

“Not exactly. I owe her in a different way,” Mitsuo admitted. Tatsuya may have been the one to bring them together but Hisana had been the one to make them a family, and he’d always love her for that.

“Huh. Well you know, she’s pretty popular around here. It’s kind of surprising, actually; I mean, Hisana told me that she had a lot of customers but yesterday I got a free bowl of ramen just because I was with her. Did you know that people call her the Angel of Inuzuri?” Eiji asked in fascination. “She never mentioned anything about that.” Mitsuo chuckled.

“Yeah, I doubt she would’ve. She absolutely hates that nickname,” Mitsuo said, smirking. “Blushes every time she hears it too.” Eiji’s face lit up.

“Seriously? Wow, Hiro’s going to _love_ this. I mean,” he glanced up at Mitsuo hastily. “Don’t get me wrong, I see where they’re coming from with the whole ‘savior sent from the heavens’ thing. I used to think of her like that too, but Hisana…” His voice trailed off. “She’s the type of girl who’ll initiate a food fight out of the blue and bombard you with muffins if she thinks you’re not eating enough, you know? _Angel_ is…”

“I know,” Mitsuo said, smiling. Majestic. Powerful. Awe-inspiring. And most of all, inhuman. While Hisana could be all of that, the real privilege was when you got to know the slightly-frazzled, short-tempered mother-hen with a heart of gold under it all. He paused for a moment.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how is your family taking your cousin’s courtship?” Mitsuo asked casually. Eiji grimaced slightly, which was an answer in itself.

“That bad?” Mitsuo asked, eyes narrowing. Eiji hesitated before replying.

“There’s been some definite discontent, especially among the older members of the council. Byakuya-sama’s grandmother, in particular, is being a complete _bitch—_ I mean, uh, she has vocally expressed her disapproval,” Eiji said, hastily correcting himself. “Byakuya-sama’s taken the brunt of their displeasure, but I know his grandfather is facing pressure from a lot of other clans who are pretty offended by the fact that he all but signed off on his grandson’s courtship to a _commoner_ when he wouldn’t even consider drawing up a marriage contract between Byakuya-sama and a member of their clans. But overall, it’s not as bad as it could have been,” he said thoughtfully. “It helps, of course, that both the Shihouin and Shiba clan heads have vocally given Hisana their support. A solid portion of the council is willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, given her skill in cultivating connections and her potential in the field; she’s already proven herself to be decently powerful in terms of reiatsu. She won’t manage to change everyone’s minds, but if anyone from the Rukongai could manage to gain the support of the majority of the clan, it’d be Hisana.” They both watched as Hisana managed to flip Kazuki over during their spar before executing her next move—which basically consisted of tackling him from behind while beating him over the head with a sandal.

“Well,” Eiji amended. “Maybe not support. ‘Hesitant neutrality’ would probably be more realistic.”

 

* * *

 

Omake

“Alright, if I’m going to accept this, I’m going to need for you to answer some questions,” Kazuki said, taking a deep breath. He looked at me seriously. “Hisana, yes or no. Is Kuchiki good in bed?” I choked. Byakuya stiffened.

“The hell kind of question is that?” I asked, after I had regained my ability to talk.

“Just answer it! That way, I can go ahead and punch him already,” he whined.

“Punch him?!”

“Sure. If you answer yes, I’ll punch him for sleeping with you. If you answer no, I’ll punch him once for sleeping with you and then again for not even making it worth your while,” he said, sounding proud of his logic. I closed my eyes slowly, wondering if it was too late to disown myself from this family. Probably.

“Why do both these scenarios end with me being punched?” Byakuya wondered.

“Oh be quiet, this doesn’t concern you. So Hisana, answer the question—is pretty-boy over there any good in bed?”

_“No!”_ I hissed out, scandalized, before realizing just what I’d said when Kazuki’s expression darkened.

“Ohoho so that’s the way it is, huh? Gonna sleep with my baby sister but you’re not even going to take the time to make her feel good? I admit, I thought better of you, Kuchiki,” he said, rolling up his sleeves ominously.

“No, no, that’s not it! I meant that I’m not going to answer your question!” I blurted out, waving my arms frantically. “It’s none of your business anyway!”

“Sounds like the kind of answer someone who’s feeling a little…disappointed would give,” Kazuki said, ignoring the frigid glare Byakuya was suddenly giving him.

“Oh, shut up!” I snapped waspishly. “If you really must know, I couldn’t give you an answer even if I wanted to because we haven’t _done_ anything yet.”

“I see.” Kazuki’s face was terrifyingly blank. “And why is that, huh? Do you not find my sister attractive enough, Kuchiki? Is that it? Or maybe, you don’t think she’s good enough for you to touch? Well if that’s the case—” Byakuya’s composed mask slipped a fraction.

“You think…you think I don’t _want_ her,” he said in disbelief. “You could not be more mistaken. I assure you, Kazuki-san, my _desire_ has never been the issue.”

“Byakuya?” I asked hesitantly, gaping at him. He glanced away but not before I saw the subtle tint of pink coloring his cheeks.

“Ah.” I looked up warily to see Kazuki regarding Byakuya sympathetically, which by itself set off all my internal alarms. “I see what the problem is now. You know, there’s no shame in admitting that you don’t know what you’re doing, Kuchiki. We all had to start somewhere, after all. Now, I don’t know what kind of sex education they gave you back at the Seireitei, but I doubt it’s as comprehensive as the one a decent prostitute will give. You know what they say—experience is the best teacher,” Kazuki nodded sagely. “Luckily for you, you came to the right person to get advice.”

“Wait, you can’t mean,” I stared at him in horror. “Kazuki, _no.”_ His lip twisted slightly in distaste.

“Look, I don’t want to be doing this either but I’m willing to do it if it means that you get a fulfilling sexual experience. And that’s not gonna happen if pretty-boy over there is fumbling around in the dark, is it? Now, I’m pretty sure I still have those diagrams you drew from when you were giving Rukia and Renji the sex talk and—hey! Kaori! Where’d you put those sock puppets?”

“The anatomically correct ones?”

“Yeah!” He looked at me reassuringly. “Don’t worry Hisana, if I’m going to do this I’m going to make sure I do it properly. Variety is the best spice, after all.” I gave up trying to talk sense into him and instead turned to Byakuya.

“I won’t hold it against you if you run, you know,” I whispered. “Really.”

“Mitsuo informed me about the ‘screening process’ you put people through. No doubt this is just another test,” he said, although he looked faintly ill. “And I will not see myself fail. Don’t worry about me, Hisana, I’ll be fine. How bad could it be?”

~Two hours later~

“They’re still in there?” Mitsuo asked as he walked over to where I was sitting, Miwa behind him. He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Damn, that’s rough.” I didn’t look up from where I’d buried my face in my arms.

“He’s gonna leave me,” I said mournfully. “This is it, this is the breaking point, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Mitsuo said, sounding far more amused than he had any right to be. “He hasn’t run away yet, has he?”

“Why haven’t you stopped Kazuki yet, if you’re so worried?” Miwa asked curiously.

“I would, but Byakuya won’t let me. Seems to think he has something to prove, the overly-noble idiot.”

“He really does love you, doesn’t he?” Miwa mused, something like approval coloring her voice. It was the closest thing to a positive emotion I’d ever heard her direct at Byakuya, and it was enough to make me look up. “I mean, he got all flustered when he got a glimpse of Reiko’s bare _shoulders_ and he’s in there listening to Kazuki talking about the benefits of bondage, sensory deprivation, and roleplay. And that’s _after_ an hour of detailed information on different positions.” She sounded faintly impressed. It didn’t make me feel better.

“There is no part of this scenario that isn’t very, very wrong,” I grumbled.

“Think of it as Kazuki’s final screening test. There’s a lot you can tell about a man by what he’s into, after all,” Mitsuo said sagely. “At least this way if he has a knife fetish or something you’ll know well in advance.”

“You can dress it up all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that my _brother_ is in there giving my boyfriend tips on how to have sex with me,” I said flatly, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “He’s gonna be scared off sex forever, isn’t he?”

“Don’t worry, he’s got decades of repressed hormones to help him recover. I’m sure by the end of the year he’ll be completely back to normal, if a bit more knowledgeable than he was previously,” Mitsuo said optimistically.

I groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out kinda angsty but I wanted to address the fact that I didn’t think it’d be realistic for them to be 100% cool with Hisana and Rukia leaving. More so with Hisana because they had decades to mentally prepare for Rukia leaving, while Hisana left right after getting kidnapped/nearly killed. There’s going to be some legitimate concern, insecurities, etc. that they have to deal with. 
> 
> Please don’t send me PMs/reviews asking me to update faster because here’s a quick lesson in reverse psychology—any time I come across a message along the lines of ‘hurry up and update’ my immediate response is ‘how ‘bout no.’ 
> 
> Finally, I thought I should mention that over on my ffnet account (same username), I've posted some drabbles in the WTL verse that I haven't posted here (out of sheer laziness, sorry), just in case you wanted to check them out! ^_^


	28. Chapter 28

Rukia’s introduction to the Seireitei—or more accurately, certain people in the Seireitei—went about as well as could be expected.

“Did you shrink?” The sound of Ikkaku’s bewildered voice made me stop dead in my tracks before I started walking again twice as quickly.

“What are you talking about, you dummy? Of course I didn’t shrink!” I heard Rukia shout indignantly.

“No, seriously, I could’a sworn you weren’t this short the last time I saw ya. Like, you’ve always been small, but not _this_ small, ya know?” Ikkaku continued. I rounded the corner to see him holding Rukia up by the back of her shirt, peering at her in confusion.

“I see you’ve met my sister, Madarame-san,” I said dryly, just as Rukia seemed about to kick him in a place that would undoubtedly cause him great pain. At the sight of me, Ikkaku dropped Rukia unceremoniously on the ground where she landed with an offended _oomph._

“Oops,” he said, looking at the increasingly pissed-off girl before my words caught up to him. “Wait, sister?!” I lifted one eyebrow.

“Yes, my sister. I believe I’ve mentioned her once or twice,” I said a touch sardonically as I helped Rukia to her feet. “Anyway, Rukia, this is Madarame Ikkaku, third seat of the Eleventh Division. Madarame-san, this is Rukia, _not_ a shrunken version of me.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a relief,” he grinned. “Was worried for a second there. I mean, if ya _did_ have some kind of shrinking condition, eventually it was going to be a pain in the ass to find you. Well, more so than it already is, anyway.” This time _I_ was the one who had to resist the urge to kick him in the balls.

“Nee-chan, you’re _friends_ with this guy?” Rukia asked in disbelief.

“I know. I can’t believe it either,” I said sadly.

“Oi! I’m still here!” Ikkaku shouted rather indignantly.

“I’m aware,” I said at the same time Rukia asked, “Your point?” Ikkaku stared at us for a moment before shaking his head.

“Dear god, it’s hereditary,” he mumbled.

“Was there something I could help you with, Madarame-san?” I asked, choosing to ignore his statement. He frowned at me.

“Just coming to see what was taking ya so long. Ya still need to help Yachiru bake the cake for the party, right?” When I continued to stare at him in incomprehension, he sighed in exasperation. “For Yumi’s birthday? Don’t tell me ya forgot.”

“Oh,” I said numbly, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “O-of course. It’s just—”

“You can go, nee-chan. I get that you have other commitments,” Rukia interrupted, looking down at her feet before smiling up at me. “I’m a big girl now, you don’t need to drop me off. Besides, I’ll have Renji with me, right?”

“Yes, but it’s the day of your test…I wanted to be here for you,” I said regretfully, feeling surprisingly sentimental all of a sudden. “My little sister, all grown up. You know, it seems like just the other day you couldn’t even _walk_ and now you’re well on your way to battling hollows and—”

“Ugh nee-chan, stop being so sappy,” Rukia complained, cheeks red. Despite that, she seemed rather pleased. “You’re such a _mom.”_ I laughed, reaching down to hug her tightly.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” I said softly, brushing her hair from her face. “No matter how well you do, what rank you get, I’ll always be proud.”

“I know,” Rukia said quietly. An odd expression flitted across her face before she tilted her head and smiled. “I’ll become just as good a shinigami as you are, nee-chan, just you wait.” I chuckled, ruffling her hair.

“I look forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

“No! Don’t come in!” At Yumichika’s panicked shriek, I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to ward off a headache.

“For the last time Ayasegawa-san, your hair is not going gray,” I said tiredly.

“I know what I saw!”

A tug at my sleeve caused me to look down to see Yachiru staring up at me with wide eyes.

“Why’s Frilly-brows so upset? Is it ‘cuz he’s growin’ old?” She asked in a loud whisper. Any hopes I may have had that Yumichika hadn’t heard her were promptly dashed when an answering wail came from behind the door.

“No, it’s because he’s being a _child_ who can’t deal with the discoloration of a single _hair,”_ I scowled. For all that the Eleventh Division claimed to be the ‘manliest and toughest of them all’ (ha!), they were surprisingly vain. Yumichika was the most obvious case but according to Yachiru, Zaraki spent _hours_ styling those ridiculous hair spikes of his. Even Ikkaku, who didn’t have any hair to begin with, took care to wax his head (I didn’t care _what_ the man claimed, there was no way his head shone that way _naturally_ ).

“It may seem like a minor thing now, but soon it’ll be two hairs, then ten, and before you know it my head will be white and I’ll be covered in wrinkles and—”

“For god’s sake—!” I forced myself to take a deep breath before I did something regrettable, like set the door on fire. The last time I did that, it didn’t end well—although to be fair, that was mostly due to the fact that some moron tried to put it out with the closest liquid at hand, which happened to be alcohol. “Look Ayasegawa-san, believe me when I say that a single white hair does not mean the rest are going to follow anytime soon. Stuff like this happens, it’s natural.” When still no response came, I continued, “Look, think of it this way. This is just Mother Nature’s way of keeping things fair; the rest of us wouldn’t have a chance, otherwise.”

“You’ll always be prettiest to me, Yumi,” Yachiru said loyally. At that, the door slid open a fraction, revealing a single purple eye.

“You mean that?” He asked, voice quivering slightly. I schooled my expression into one of earnest sincerity and nodded.

“Please. If _you_ need to worry about your looks, then the rest of us are definitely doomed,” I assured him before lifting up a plate of cake. “Will you let us in? We brought refreshments and I have it on good authority that cake is a _fantastic_ remedy for any visible signs of aging.”

“Oh? Whose authority, if you don’t mind me asking?” Yumichika asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mine,” I answered, without missing a beat.

“Mm. A very wise person, indeed,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You said you had cake?”

“Saved you the best slice,” I confirmed. Well, the only slice. The rest of it hadn’t survived a hungry Yachiru, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m also supposed to tell you that there’s an epic food fight being held in your honor right now. Madarame-san promised he’d try to save you a basket of eggs, but you might want to hurry just in case.”

“It’s _awesome,”_ Yachiru added, eyes gleaming. Yumichika laughed, picking her up and settling her on his hip.

“Well now, let’s not keep them waiting any longer, hmm?”

 

* * *

 

“Do I even want to know why you look like you just crawled your way through three wars and took a detour through hell to boot?” Iemura asked dryly. I just groaned, flopping back down onto the bed.

“Don’t do that. I haven’t healed your head yet,” he said sharply.

“Right. Head wound. I knew I forgot something,” I muttered woozily to myself. “Ow.”

“Let me guess—you were over at the Eleventh Division again?” Iemura asked, voice heavy with disapproval. “What was it this time? Eggshells in your hair, dried egg on your face…what, did they have you fight a chicken hollow or something?”

“Ah. Not quite,” I murmured as he pressed a glowing green hand to my temple. “Food fight. It was quite exhilarating, actually—a shame I had to go.”

“Well I’m glad that this time, at least, you had the good sense to stop once you were injured,” Iemura sniffed. “Now, if only you could be persuaded to leave _before_ things started getting rough.”

“It wasn’t that. I left because I hit Zaraki-taicho in the face with an egg,” I said sleepily, blinking in an attempt to clear the fuzziness from my vision. Probably due to the blood loss—head wounds bled like a _bitch._

Iemura stilled.

“You _what.”_ His voice had gone very, very flat. I frowned at him.

“Yeah, that’s when I decided to cut my losses and book it the hell out of there,” I explained.

“Are you _insane?!”_ Iemura hissed suddenly, reaching out to grip me by the shoulders. I winced as his fingernails dug painfully into my skin, before getting distracted by the slightly crazed look in his eyes.

“Iemura-senpai, what—”

“What possessed you to—I can’t believe—what were you _thinking—”_

“It was an accident,” I defended myself. “How was I supposed to know that he’d enter the room at that precise moment? Besides, if Madarame-san hadn’t dodged like a total wimp, it would’ve hit him instead.” At that, Iemura groaned, pressing a hand over his eyes.

“Yukimura, you…you can’t just keep _doing_ stuff like this,” he said in tired exasperation. “I know you have this…this unhealthy tendency of thinking that you’re invincible but if you aren’t careful, you’re going to get yourself kill—”

“I don’t think I’m invincible. I just don’t think Zaraki-taicho would hurt me.” I thought that over in my head for a moment before amending, “Well, not on purpose, anyway. Uh, at least not beyond repair.”

“And why is that?” Iemura asked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. “After all, it’s not like the brutes that follow him are known for their restraint; why should their leader be any better?”

“They’re not that bad,” I protested, frown deepening at the sheer vitriol in his tone. It was unexpected, to say the least, especially since Iemura Yasochika was practically the poster child for polite restraint.

Then again, maybe I should have expected this. Prejudice was hardly a one-way street, after all, and all those years of scorn had to have taken its toll, even if Iemura was too much of a professional to show it.

“The evidence suggests otherwise,” Iemura said icily, motioning to my slightly battered body. “They’re little more than savages who think nothing of the consequences of their actions, and you know it. How could they be anything else, with someone like Zaraki Kenpachi in charge? I’ll never understand why you insist on remaining in their company, why you continue to seek out people who _clearly_ aren’t good for you instead of…instead of staying here where you belong.”

“The fact that the Eleventh Division is led by Zaraki Kenpachi is precisely one of the reasons why I was inclined to reach out to them in the first place!” I snapped. The man was intimidating as hell, sure, but I couldn’t say that I’d ever been _afraid_ of him. “You think I’d be dumb enough to constantly seek out people I thought represented a threat to me?”

“Well, it certainly hasn’t stopped you before,” he muttered. “But tell me, where does all this faith in Zaraki Kenpachi come from? What makes you so certain that he’s more than a—a—”

“A monster?” I finished quietly. I didn’t say anything for a long moment, fiddling with the bed sheets. “You’re right, I don’t know much about Zaraki-taicho. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve spoken to him, and well, I’ve heard the stories. About how his reiatsu is so great, hollows _disintegrate_ before it, how he killed the previous Kenpachi with one blow, how he’s taken down armies with his bare hands, how he’s never happier than when he’s covered in blood. And I believe all that, I _do,_ but…he also took in an orphaned girl when he didn’t have to, and he gave her a home, a family, a _name._ He has his squad’s undying loyalty—I’ve yet to meet an Eleventh Division member who wouldn’t happily die for him—and despite his monstrous strength and lust for battle, I’ve never once heard of him striking down an opponent who was helpless or who couldn’t defend themselves. And I think that means something, don’t you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the Eleventh Division is all that great,” I added, after a slightly stilted silence. “The vast majority of them are a bunch of morons, who probably have like a combined IQ of 20 or something. That being said, I believe that reducing them to a group of mindless, bloodthirsty savages only capable of causing destruction would be doing them a great disservice.” Especially since any idiot who joined for the sole purpose of killing and causing pain wouldn’t get very far before getting their ass kicked for disrespecting the unspoken motto Zaraki set up upon becoming captain—that the thrill of a good fight should _always_ take precedence over the kill.

There was actually surprisingly little _true_ maliciousness in the Eleventh, I’d discovered. Even the bullying towards Fourth Division members—which, I was glad to see, had decreased substantially—was mostly, as Iba once put it, a sincere attempt to “toughen up any wimps before they ended up as hollow-chow.”

Not that that excused any of it, of course. Still, it was nice to know that by punching an Eleventh Division member in the face, you could a.) probably get them to stop acting like a dick and b.) get a pat on the back for ‘growing some goddamn balls,’ which was more than I could say for any other division.

“You don’t have to take my word for it, though. There’s a game of Capture the Flag scheduled at seven tomorrow. The Eleventh Division is hosting it, although all squads are welcome to join,” I said, watching Iemura carefully. “I’d like it if you could come, senpai.”

“That is hardly my kind of scene, Yukimura,” Iemura said coolly. I bit my lip before reaching out to place a hesitant hand on his shoulder, determinedly ignoring the way he stiffened under my touch.

“Look, you don’t need to like them. And if you decide you don’t, I’ll understand. Just give them a chance?” I pleaded. “It’s just…I like you, Iemura-senpai, and I think that if Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san and the others got to know you, they’d like you too.”

Iemura looked away, adjusting his glasses, and I pretended not to notice the hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally. I smiled and squeezed his shoulder, before letting go.

“That’s all I ask,” I said warmly.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, all it took to get Iemura Yasochika in the Eleventh Division spirit, so to speak—by which I meant, ‘shrieking like a banshee while charging head on towards people who could probably break him like a toothpick’—was copious amounts of alcohol.

“Did you know he had this side to him?” Isane marveled, eyes fixated on a red-faced Iemura who’d just taken out an Eleventh Division member nearly twice his size by jabbing a hand covered with a gentle green light into his solar plexus.

“No idea,” I said honestly, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a small bag of popcorn. The Boy Scouts were onto something with that ‘always be prepared’ motto.

 

* * *

 

“You really didn’t have to come, you know,” Rukia muttered, scuffing the ground with one foot.

“Of course I did. This is a big moment for you—how could I miss it?” I asked, offended.

“Not _you._ I was talking about _them,”_ Rukia grumbled, jerking her head towards where Byakuya and Kaien were standing.

“Yeah, why are they even here anyway?” Renji complained. “Okay, Oni-sensei I can understand, but the other guy?”

“You know, I do believe this is the first time I’ve been referred to as ‘the other guy’,” Kaien mused. “It’s an interesting feeling. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“You’ll live,” I said dismissively. “Although Renji has a point—why _are_ you here?”

“My reasons are my own,” he answered mysteriously. I stared at him suspiciously for a moment before realization dawned.

“You bet on this didn’t you,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. Kaien shifted guiltily and I felt a headache coming on. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”

“Ahaha,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Let’s not get into that. After all, this day is supposed to be about Rukia-chan and Renji-kun, not me.” He paused for a moment. “And you as well, I suppose. Congratulations on getting into the First Class, by the way. I know Onabara-sensei is looking forward to having you in his class.”

“What? You got into the First Class?” Renji yelped even as Byakuya turned to look at me sharply.

“You didn’t tell me that,” he murmured. I shrugged, feeling a little awkward.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Besides, I’m not even sure if I want to accept my place in it yet,” I explained.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you belong in it,” Kaien scoffed. “Even though your shunpo sucks and your zanjutsu skills are still pretty sloppy and your kido score is low because of that time you got kicked out of class for a month and—”

“Thank you, Shiba-fukutaicho, for your kind, encouraging words. Truly, they warm my heart.”

“—but your reiatsu control is pretty much perfect and you’ve activated your shikai already. Do you have any idea how significant that is? You could graduate right now and attain a seated position in…pretty much any squad you wanted. With the exception of maybe the first two divisions.”

“And I’d be pretty awful at it. Specializing is all well and good, but it doesn’t mean much if you don’t have a solid foundation first,” I said firmly. “Well-roundedness is important too.”

“Which is why you should seriously consider accepting that offer,” Kaien pointed out. “Being in the First Class will allow you much more individualized attention, and you’ll improve more quickly as a result.”

“Shiba-fukutaicho,” Byakuya stepped in, frowning. “It’s her decision and if she doesn’t want—”

“No, he’s right,” I cut in. “I suppose in terms of my education, I don’t really have any solid reasons to refuse, do I? I’m not…nearly as proficient in hohou, hakuda, and zanjutsu as I’d like to be and being in the First Class is the best way to remedy that.”

“Still, you already have a lot on your plate right now. You’re only in your first year at the Academy, you know—you have plenty of time to improve,” Byakuya said gently. “There’s no rush, Hisana.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t hurt to have that extra bit on your record, eh?” Kaien grinned. “And honestly, it’s good to push yourself every now and then. I know you’ve got responsibilities at the Fourth, but hey, your boyfriend and I both managed to get through the First Class while simultaneously juggling a crap ton of clan duties. It’ll be challenging, but it’s possible.” Byakuya’s expression hardened a fraction and he turned to glare at the other lieutenant.

“Shiba-fukutaicho, while I thank you for your opinion, Hisana’s situation is quite different—”

“I just don’t think she needs you coddling her, is all—”

“What, you don’t think I can do it, Byakuya? I’m hurt,” I teased. Byakuya froze, a hint of panic entering his expression.

“What? No, of course I think you can—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I said, holding my hands up. “You both have valid points, although at this point I’m leaning towards accepting, if only because I’m pretty sure Matsushita-sensei is about two seconds from kicking me out of his class anyway. Might as well leave on my own. _”_ I paused for a moment, before looking down at my feet. “It’s just…I’m a little worried about Isane’s reaction. I mean, I know she’ll be happy for me, but…” Kaien’s expression softened.

“I’m sure she’d understand. Besides, you can still spend time with each other even if you aren’t in the same class,” he said gently.

“I guess,” I said, feeling slightly uneasy. Because although Isane had certainly grown more confident over the past six months or so, she’d never been the most outgoing of people. Looking back, I was surprised she’d taken the initiative to approach _me._ With a pang of guilt, I realized I couldn’t recall if she had any close friends in the Seireitei besides me and Hanataro.

And now, if I couldn’t see her in classes…well, Monday and Wednesday nights I would have additional kido lessons with Grumpy-face. Tuesday nights I usually spent at the Third Division, Thursday nights I spent at the 12th, Friday evenings I had ‘Aristocracy for Dummies’ with Yoruichi and Kukaku, and I typically spent my Saturday evenings crashing at either the 11th or the 13th. Sunday…I’d already promised Rukia and Renji that Sundays would be reserved for just the three of us and Ran had somehow weaseled a promise out of me to have a ‘girls’ night’ at the end of every week because “I need someone to rant to and god knows you look like you need it too, Yuki-chan.” Then there was the fact that ever since Byakuya and I had started dating, I’d been having dinner every day with him and, well…that just left the occasional lunchtime.

It didn’t seem like enough.

With a grimace, I shook my head and decided it didn’t really matter how much I had to do, I’d figure out a way to make it work. So what if I was going to be a little busier this semester? Multitasking was a wonderful thing and if I didn’t have enough time, I’d just _make_ it.

“They’re posting the results!” Rukia’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked over to see where she was trying to force her way through the crowd. “Dammit, I can’t see anything from here,” she growled in frustration. “Renji, get over here and help me push.” Kaien grinned.

“Language, Rukia-chan,” he chided, striding forward. The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea and a smug expression crossed his face. “And _that’s_ how it’s done,” he boasted. It took every ounce of maturity I had not to make a face at him.

“They’re handing out acceptance packets at the tables over there. Shall we?” Byakuya murmured, offering me his arm. “I’d like to avoid the crowd.”

I pursed my lips, not quite managing to hide my smile at his casual confidence.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to head there until we actually hear the results,” I said mildly.

“Please,” Byakuya scoffed lightly. “They’re _my_ students. Of course they’ll pass.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god nee-chan, stop already. You’re so embarrassing,” Rukia whined.

“It’s my job as your big sister to be embarrassing. Now hold still; you’ve got some dirt on your nose,” I huffed.

“I’m gonna look like that one reindeer you told me about by the time you finish rubbing it. They’ll call me _Rukia the red-nosed shinigami…_ is that what you want?”

“Oh, shush. Just be grateful that _Byakuya_ isn’t the one in charge of getting you ready.” Poor Renji. I took a moment to pray for his soul.

A muffled noise behind me caught my attention and I looked up to see Isane trying to suppress her laughter behind one hand.

“I’m sorry—it’s just,” she started giggling. “I didn’t think you could become any more of a mother hen than you already are, but…”

“I am _not_ a mother hen!” I said indignantly. Tenshi no Tsubasa made a scoffing sound inside my head and I scowled. Just whose side was she on, anyway?

“You certainly cluck at me enough to be one,” Rukia said, smirking. I pointed a finger at her warningly.

“Hey, watch it. I did not raise you to be a smartass, young lady.” Isane made another strange noise, this time sounding just a tiny bit pained, and my scowl deepened. “Isane-san, it sounds like you may have something stuck in your throat. Might I suggest getting a drink of water?”

“Right. I’ll just go and…do that,” Isane agreed, pressing her lips together tightly in a futile attempt to stop them from twitching. As soon as she left, I bent down, smoothing out any remaining wrinkles in Rukia’s uniform.

“Ready for this?” I asked quietly.

“Been ready for the past six months,” Rukia replied, tilting her chin up.

“Mm. Well, Second Class, you know. That’s impressive, especially at your age,” I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice.  

“It’s not that big a deal,” Rukia muttered, looking away. “Renji got in too. Besides, Shiba-fukutaicho told me that the only reason _you_ didn’t make First Class last semester was because you stopped in the middle of the physical portion to help another applicant.”

“I’ve also been training several decades longer than you have, and I’ve been using reiatsu pretty much on a daily basis for the past sixty-five years or so,” I reminded her. “You’ll catch up, that’s never been a concern of mine. Just give it time.”

“You’re my big sister. You’re _supposed_ to say that,” she complained. I smiled, straightening up.

“Yeah, well, just because I’m supposed to say it, doesn’t make it any less true,” I said, ruffling her hair. “You’re going to be an amazing shinigami someday, imouto. Call it a gut feeling of mine.”

 

* * *

 

There were many things I valued about my friendship with Ran. The anonymity, for one. It was…freeing, in a way, to talk about things with someone who had no idea who I was. Then there was the fact that Ran was alarmingly well-connected in terms of gossip and the latest rumors flying around the Seireitei, so she never ran out of interesting things to say.

It was just when those two things collided that it sometimes got a bit…awkward.

“And so apparently she hit the Captain of the Eleventh in the face with an egg?” Ran continued excitedly. I sunk lower in my chair, absently wishing that the world would swallow me up already. “I mean, I know it sounds crazy but this source is usually pretty reliable. Then again, they did use this as evidence to support their theory that Yukimura is either cheating on Kuchiki-fukutaicho with Zaraki-taicho, or is in a threesome with them, so who knows.”

“They said _what?!”_ I yelped, sitting up so quickly my head swam dizzily for a moment.

“Yeah, I don’t believe it either,” Ran said dismissively. “Kuchiki doesn’t seem the type.”

“How does hitting someone in the face with an egg translate to romantic interest?” I asked in disbelief, while internally praying to every deity I knew that Byakuya would _never, ever_ hear about this.

“Well, the fact that she’s still alive. Plus, you know what the Eleventh is like. They have weird flirting methods; for them, hitting someone in the face is probably just par for the course,” Ran explained, before tilting her head to the side. “Are you okay, Yuki-chan? You look a little ill.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I forced a smile onto my face, swallowing the bile that’d risen up due to the mental image of me, Byakuya, and Zaraki Kenpachi on a bed together doing… _that._ Fuck, I was never going to be able to look him in the eye again, was I? “So uh, you mentioned that Kuchiki doesn’t seem the type. Do you think Yukimura would do something like that?” I asked, not quite able to meet her gaze. It felt strange, referring to myself in the third person, and the words sat uncomfortably on my tongue.

“I mean, it’s hard to say, given that I’ve never actually met the girl. I mean, I highly doubt there’s anything going on between her and Zaraki-taicho, but as for whether she’s the type to do something like that in general…” Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. “She’s known for spending time with several high ranking shinigami but I doubt she’d make a move on any of them. She’s Rukongai, right? 78th District? If she’s after the power or prestige that comes from being courted by a high-profile shinigami, she’s already got it, and if she has any brains at all, she won’t do anything to risk that.”

“Right,” I echoed hollowly. “That would be…foolish.” _As if that was the only reason I wasn’t whoring myself out_ , I thought bitterly to myself.

“Tell me about it,” Ran grinned. “Gotta applaud her for aiming high, though. All that money _and_ those insanely good looks? I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous.” She tilted her head to the side. “Although, you’d probably know more about her than me, right? I mean, doesn’t Yukimura hang around the Fourth Division sometimes? Have you spoken to her at all?”

“We’re…acquainted,” I said wryly, before pausing for a long moment. “I could introduce you, if you want.”

“You’d do that?” Ran asked, looking at me in surprise. Although she’d hinted several times that she wouldn’t mind getting to know me outside of our weekly Sunday night meetings, even going so far as to invite me over to the Tenth Division a couple times, this _was_ the first time I’d been the one to suggest ending our unspoken anonymity agreement.

I shrugged, ruthlessly shoving down the hesitation that rose within me. While I couldn’t deny that I’d miss simply being ‘Yuki-chan’, my identity would come out eventually, and it’d probably be better if I was the one to tell her. Besides, as nice as it was to get an unbiased account of my reputation in the Seireitei, I didn’t think I could stand hearing speculations about my mythical sexual exploits for much longer.

“Sure. Why not?” I asked. “She works on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, if you want to come over then.”

“Sounds great!” Ran beamed. “You’re the best, Yuki-chan!”

I laughed softly. “I just hope you won’t be disappointed. She’s…far less interesting than the rumors make her out to be.”

 

* * *

 

“Hisana, _no.”_

“But Byakuya,” I whined, tugging on his sleeve. “It’s _free ramen for a month._ And all I have to do is eat approximately half my body weight in noodles.”

“You’d expire from a saline overdose. And I, for one, do not want to explain to your family why your epitaph reads ‘death by noodles,’” Byakuya said dryly.

“Oh, but what a way to go,” I said grinning. “If you insist though, I won’t participate in the contest. Just know that I’m still covering the bill at the end. Don’t argue; it’s my turn to pay and you know it.” Byakuya looked vaguely pained.

“For the last time, it’d be absolutely no trouble for me to—”

“Nuh uh,” I interrupted. “I picked the restaurant, it’s only fair that I pay the bill. Besides, I’ve already made up my mind. You’re only allowed to court me if I get to court you too.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He asked, shaking his head. “This isn’t a competition, Hisana.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I retorted, folding my arms across my chest. “But I’ve decided that I rather like taking you out to dinner and showering you with gifts, so that’s what I’m gonna do. And you don’t get to protest because letting me love you? That’s the best courting gift you could possibly give me.” Byakuya stared at me for a moment. Then he laughed, a little helplessly, and bent down to brush his lips against my forehead.

“I must have done something unspeakably amazing in a past life to deserve you,” he murmured. I felt myself flush at the earnestness in his eyes and ducked my head, suddenly feeling shy. A part of me felt slightly betrayed—wasn’t I supposed to get used to stuff like this? Build up an immunity or something? This wasn’t _fair._  

“You’re being sappy again,” I grumbled half-heartedly, stomping into the restaurant before my face got redder than it already was.

“Only for you, love,” he chuckled as I tossed a menu at his head with poor grace. “Only for you.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, is the sight of you eating ramen _really_ that incomprehensible?” I asked in disbelief, eyes narrowing at a group of teenagers whispering amongst each other while blatantly staring at us.

“Unfortunately so,” Byakuya said wryly. “I do not…typically frequent establishments like these.”

“Well, it’s rude,” I said bluntly, even as I shifted my chair so that my body would partially block their view of him. “What? Now I’m closer to the napkins,” I added defensively, when Byakuya raised an eyebrow at me. The touch of fond amusement in his eyes told me he’d seen straight through my (admittedly weak) excuse, but thankfully he let the matter drop.

“So, the Academy starts in two days,” he said, changing the subject. “How are my wayward students doing?” I relaxed.

“Oh, they’re excited, definitely. I’m pretty sure Rukia has already gone through all the textbooks at least twice, and Renji’s practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation,” I said fondly. “They’re still rather young, but if anyone can rise to the challenge, it’s those two.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Byakuya chuckled. “Their poor instructor. I almost pity him.” The amused glint in his eyes betrayed him and I rolled my eyes. “Although I don’t think anything they do will top your record.”

“No one’s ever going to let me live that fire incident down, are they?” I groaned. “I keep telling people, that was an _accident._ Why does no one ever believe me?”

“Because they know you. And I’m sorry to say, love, but your track record of only messing up when it suits you is rather telling,” Byakuya informed me.

“Ugh. I knew I should have put more effort into sucking,” I said in mock regret, before shaking my head. “Probably won’t be able to get away with stuff like that in the First Class, huh?”

“How _did_ Kotetsu-san take the news, by the way?” Byakuya asked. I hesitated, thinking back to the way Isane’s shoulders had slumped slightly before she’d managed to slip a happy, congratulatory smile on her face.

“I mean…” I chewed on my bottom lip worriedly. “We definitely won’t be able to spend as much time together this semester, but it’s like Shiba-fukutaicho said, we’ll still see each other, right? And…and I’ll make it work. It’ll be fine.”

“Mm. Just don’t overwork yourself, alright?” Byakuya told me, studying me closely. “It’s okay to set aside some time for yourself.”

“Did Mitsuo put you up to this? This is like the fifth time you’ve said that,” I laughed. “Look, I may be a bit busy this semester but I’ll be _fine._ I know how much I can take.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” he murmured almost inaudibly. My smile tightened just a little and I pulled back.

“I’ve been through a lot worse than this, Byakuya. I know where my limits are.”

“I just worry about you sometimes,” he admitted. It wasn’t quite an apology. “And yes, Mitsuo-san and Kaori-san did mention that you have a tendency to—”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” I relaxed in understanding. “Look, my siblings have a tendency to overreact. I mean, you experienced firsthand just how…intrusive they can be—” Byakuya winced almost imperceptibly at the reminder of his ill-fated ‘man-to-man’ talk with Kazuki. “—and they’ve only gotten more overprotective since the whole Akiyama thing. Now, I don’t know exactly what they said to you, but it’s not your responsibility to monitor my wellbeing 24/7. You signed up to be my boyfriend, not my caregiver.” I reached out and covered his hand with my own, giving it a light squeeze. “That means supporting me, being there for me, listening to me talk, putting up with my quirks…but _looking after_ me? That isn’t fair to you and it isn’t fair to me either.” He studied me for a moment before relaxing slightly, lifting my hand up and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it.

“I understand. And I’ll do my best to respect your decisions.” Byakuya paused for a moment. “Just…if you ever want free food, come to me instead of entering into a crazy food-eating challenge?” He pleaded. I let out a surprised laugh.

“So I don’t enter into any stomachache-inducing contests and in return, you don’t monitor what I eat?” I asked, grinning. “Deal.”

* * *

 

“Yukimura-san, what an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here today?” Urahara asked, eyebrows raised. “Must be important for you of all people to seek me out.”

“You could say that,” I answered. His face fell as I dropped a massive pile of papers onto his desk. “Here, brought you a gift.”

“More paperwork? You certainly know the way to a man’s heart, Yukimura-san,” he said, staring at the bundle of notebooks in open dismay.

“Not quite. You told me to report to you if I had any further breakthroughs in regards to Ukitake-taicho’s illness? Well, here you go. All my notes from the past couple of months are there,” I said briskly, taking a seat in front of him.

“Oh? You’re still working on that?” Urahara asked, a faint glimmer of surprise entering his eyes. “I thought you’d already implemented a treatment plan. Unohana-taicho mentioned it to me just a few days ago; she’s very happy with the results so far.”

“You mean the plasma transfusions? Yes, they’ve been working quite well—I mean, his lungs are still in terrible condition, but at least the frequency of his attacks have decreased somewhat,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.

“You don’t sound very satisfied,” Urahara pointed out. I huffed.

“The problem is, plasma transfusions work fine as a supplementary treatment plan, but they aren’t enough to stand on their own. Besides the fact that it’s dreadfully inconvenient—he’s a captain, he doesn’t have the _time_ for biweekly transfusions—in order to see serious improvement, more drastic measures have to be taken,” I said, pursing my lips. For the plasma treatments to reach the desired level of effectiveness, Ukitake would have to be hooked up to an IV 24/7, which wasn’t exactly feasible. Hence, the reason why I wanted to work out some kind of immune-suppressant drug.

“So you’ve been trying to find an alternative—or at least, something that will have a stronger effect,” Urahara surmised, leaning back in his chair. “You know, there are those who would say that you’ve already done more than enough.”

“If you wanted me out of your labs, you could’ve just told me, Urahara-taicho,” I said dryly. “As it is, if you’re going to kick me out, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me some advance notice so I can start making plans on how to sneak back in.” He huffed a laugh.

“Persistent, are you? I wasn’t aware that you liked us so much, given that you hardly ever stop by the common areas to say hello.” I gave him a blank look.

“Well, of course not. If I did that, I’d run the risk of running into Bozo-face and believe me when I say that it’s better for everyone involved if that doesn’t happen,” I said honestly.

“Bozo-face? Ah, you must mean Kurotsuchi-san. He’s not so bad,” Urahara said, amused. I sent him another flat look.

“I believe Sarugaki-fukutaicho put it best when she said that his mere presence causes the ovaries of any women in the near vicinity to shrivel up, and since I _do_ want to have children someday…” I trailed off. “But that’s a subject for another time. I’m here to discuss Ukitake-taicho’s condition, not the…many grievances I may or may not have with certain members of your staff.”

“I think we’d be here for the next couple of months if you got started on _that_ subject,” Urahara muttered to himself under his breath. I politely pretended not to hear him. “But anyway, back to Ukitake-taicho. You believe you’ve come up with a solution?”

“Mhm. There’s still a lot of things that need to be worked out, but I think I have the basics of a plan,” I said, leaning forward. “My main problem was, I didn’t have the technology or knowhow to be able to synthesize a biological compound that would somehow inhibit an immune response…or at least, not without irreparably compromising an immune system. But then I thought—why not come up with a way to have a living organism do it for me? As you know, Ukitake-taicho’s condition stems from the inappropriate production of autoantibodies by his immune system’s B-cells, which then target certain tissues in his lungs for destruction. So taking that principle, if I could find a way to synthesize antibodies that would specifically attack the B-cells in his body, in theory it would drastically reduce his immune response.”

“And that’s when you stumbled upon the idea of using animals. Of course—naturally, the proteins on the surface of a human cell would be foreign to them and so their bodies would automatically launch an immune response upon coming into contact with them,” Urahara surmised thoughtfully.

“The main issue I’m having is coming up with a way to identify and then isolate a protein only exhibited on the surface of human B-cells, rather than just any human cell. The last thing I want is to make an existing problem worse,” I explained. “Akon-kun—now _there’s_ a staff member I approve of—is helping me with that; the whole process will take at least a couple more months, no doubt, but according to him it’s certainly doable. After that, it’s just a matter of injecting the desired protein into a mouse or something, and then taking a sample of activated B-cells from the animal’s spleen. A few induced mutations and you have a bunch of cells that’ll pretty much go on dividing indefinitely, providing an endless supply of the desired antibodies,” I shrugged before hesitating. “Of course, there will be side effects such as loss of appetite, nausea, and vomiting. He’ll also have a higher chance of getting an infection, although given his high reiatsu levels I’m not so concerned about that. Additionally, he _will_ be at an increased risk for tumors and cancer.” My voice wavered on the last word and I forcibly calmed myself before continuing, keeping my expression carefully blank.

“However, if everything works out as expected—” Another big ‘if’; it wasn’t like I had many options when it came to testing the treatment out, after all. “—it should result in a significant improvement in lung function, as well as a large reduction in the number of cough attacks he has. Hopefully, it’ll also decrease his need for the plasma transfusions from twice a week to once every two weeks,” I finished before clasping my hands together. “So what do you think?”

“Well, as you’ve said, there are a lot of things that still need to be worked out. Figuring out dosages, for one. And it’s still up in the air whether or not Ukitake-taicho will even agree to this treatment,” Urahara murmured. “But overall, I think you have a pretty solid start. Well done, Yukimura-san.” He paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “I just have one question, if I may. Why didn’t you ever become a scientist?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, pausing.

“Well, you’re an intelligent girl, you obviously have a solid science background, you’re comfortable in a lab, and you certainly have the drive necessary. You could probably help a lot more people by conducting experiments for the good of mankind—so why become a healer? Why not a scientist?” Urahara questioned.

“Oh, I’d do horribly in the Twelfth, Urahara-taicho,” I laughed. He raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Your time here suggests otherwise,” he pointed out. I shook my head, smiling softly.

“Sure, I can do the occasional experiment. But you said it yourself—to truly fit in this division, to become _great,_ you need to do things with all of mankind in mind, and I’ve always been just a little too concerned with the individual to succeed at that. Don’t you see? That’s the difference between a good scientist and a good healer. You look at humanity—I look at people.”

“You make us sound so cold,” Urahara pouted. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” I asked pointedly, before pausing. “It’s not a bad thing. To look at things objectively, without letting emotion getting in the way—it’s how a lot of unpleasant, but ultimately necessary decisions get made.”

“Mhm, you truly mean that, don’t you?” Urahara murmured shrewdly, eyes sharp. “A part of you admires that kind of mindset. And yet, it’s also the very reason you don’t trust me. Why you’ve never felt comfortable around me.” I stiffened at his knowing look, debating my next words.

“You and Kurotsuchi-san…you both have the same tendency of reducing everything around you to facts and figures. Most people, adults and children alike, are just statistics to you. A means to an end,” I said finally. “And you’re right—that’s why I can’t trust you. But at the same time, there are some lines even you won’t cross. Shihouin-taicho, Sarugaki-fukutaicho…you’d never do anything to hurt them, or at the very least, you’d try your best not to. Ultimately, you’re not a bad person, Urahara-taicho. But it isn’t difficult to see that you’re far smarter than you’d have most people believe, to the point where I wonder whether anyone can truly keep up with you. In the face of that, I suppose I can’t blame you for finding it hard to see people as _individuals,_ when it must seem like the vast majority of us have scarcely more intelligence than animals,” I smiled faintly, tiredly.

_Him and Aizen, both,_ I thought. Cut from the same cloth, those two.

“But despite that, you _try,_ and you look out for those you do care about, who’ve come to matter to you, and as long as you keep doing that I’ll always respect you.” I paused, looking at Urahara’s slightly wide-eyed expression, before adding, “But anyway, while you’re always going to be a mad scientist, don’t worry too much about turning into an _evil_ mad scientist. As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure to punch you in the face before you get up to anything _too_ awful. And if I can’t, I’ll be sure to find someone who can _._ ”

Urahara huffed out a laugh, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re so determined to stick around, isn’t it?” He smiled wryly. “I’ll take a look through your notes and contact you if I have any questions or suggestions. In the meantime, you should probably head out before one of those healer friends of yours comes over to drag you back. They’re awfully possessive of you, I must say.”

“More like Iemura-sempai likes coming up with new and inventive ways to pile work on me,” I muttered under my breath, grumbling slightly. Just before I exited the room, Urahara called after me.

“Oh, and Yukimura-san? You matter too, you know. I don’t want you to leave without knowing that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By no means do I want to imply that I think all scientists are cold-hearted bastards. However, this is the 12th Division and ‘scientist’ has a different meaning in the Bleach world than it does here. Also, to any people specializing/majoring in science out there, please excuse the pseudo-science bullshit.   
> If you think Hisana’s schedule sounds insane (school/work from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., six days a week, not including other obligations), I totally agree with you. Hisana may be a natural extrovert but there’s a limit, and it’s always a bad sign when you start seeing ‘spending time with friends and family’ as an obligation to fulfill, rather than a way to relax. If you think it’s weird that Kaien would push her so much, my explanation for that is he really has no idea just how much she’s involved in. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy my Christmas gift to you all! If you want to give me a holiday/birthday (turning 21 in a bit under 2 weeks, woohoo!) present in return, reviews are always welcome :D


	29. Chapter 29

I touched the fabric covering my face gingerly, wondering if it would be acceptable for me to unsheathe my zanpakuto just so I could have a reflective surface to look at myself in. An unexpected side effect of becoming an intern of the Kido Corps was that we all got these mandatory face masks to wear—vaguely reminiscent of the ones official Kido Corps members wore, only dark blue rather than white, and a lot simpler. 

Letting out a mental sigh, I decided that getting to laugh at my reflection probably wasn’t worth causing a possible panic for, and instead headed towards the refreshments table where I was faced with another dilemma.

“How the hell do they eat with these stupid things on their faces?” I muttered to myself, glaring in frustration at the biscuits in my hands. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s dinner and squeezing my stomach to stop the gurgling noises was only going to work for so long.

 _Is this really the sort of thing you should be concerned about right now?_ Tenshi no Tsubasa asked in exasperation. _First at your Academy orientation, and now this…why can’t you go socialize like everyone else instead of obsessing over food?_

 _Oh, be quiet,_ I grumbled. _You wouldn’t understand, you don’t have to eat._

Honestly, looking at the plethora of sushi, sashimi, steamed buns, cookies, crackers, and dango spread out on the table before me, I had no idea how the other interns were doing it. Still, out of the twenty or so students out there, some of them would become my future teammates, which meant that I should probably get to know them—

My stomach let out another pathetic whimper.

 _Ah, fuck it,_ I cursed internally. Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was looking in my direction, I grabbed a plate, quickly filled it up with food, and proceeded to duck under the table where I found myself on the receiving end of a pair of startled stare.

“Ah,” I said awkwardly as I let the tablecloth fall down behind me, covering me and the other occupant from view. The other student—boyish-looking face, bright blue eyes, messy blond hair, cheeks currently bulging with food—swallowed with an obvious effort before giving me a weak smile.

“I won’t tell if you don’t?” He offered. I considered it for all of half a second before nodding emphatically.

“Deal,” I said, yanking down my own mask and shoving an onigiri into my mouth. Glancing over at my companion’s plate, I felt my eyes widen. “Is that _ootoro?”_

“Ah.” He glanced down. “Yeah, it is. I kind of ate most of it myself already, but given that we’re the only ones who have even approached the food table this entire time, there should still be some left—”

That was all the information I needed before I was pulling my mask back up and crawling out from under the table.

“Little overkill, don’t you think?” My temporary comrade-in-arms commented when I returned, precariously balancing three plates on my arms.

“Figured I’d save us the trouble of making a return trip,” I said sheepishly, sliding one of the plates over to him before pulling out a flask from inside my uniform.

“I like the way you think,” he grinned, eyes sparkling. “And alcohol? Really?”

“They didn’t have any drinks out there,” I said defensively.

“Hey, do you hear me complaining?” He retorted. “Now hand it over.”

 

* * *

 

An indeterminate amount of time later, I’d discovered three things about my companion. First, his name was Shirai Arashi. Second, he had a pathetically low alcohol tolerance, although he insisted otherwise. Third, he was a really talkative drunk.

“M’hole family’s been senshors, y’know?” He slurred. “M’bro’s a ninja, he works for…for tha’ cat lady. M’dad did too b’fore he retired. But he saysh I would be a horrible ninja.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I muttered. All it took was half a flask of sake and the dude was already spilling his life story to me. Coating one hand with healing reiatsu, I coaxed, “Now come on, let me fix you up a little. The ceremony’s about to start soon, and you can’t go out like this.”

I managed to get within two inches of his skin before he suddenly giggled, batting my hand away. “Stop it, that tickles.”

“Goddamn it, stop moving around—!” I cursed as he sat up abruptly, head-butting me in the process.

“Ouch,” he whined, rubbing at his forehead before turning to stare at me with dilated eyes. “Ooh, someone _important’s_ coming,” he informed me seriously. “Like…like a _sun._ Along with a buncha tiny moons.”

“Like a sun?” I thought that over in my head for a moment before paling. “Like a _captain?”_ The Kido Corps Commander was about to arrive and I was stuck under a table with a drunk moron who wouldn’t let me sober him up?

“They’re here!” Shirai announced cheerfully, and crawled out from under the table just as I was debating the merits of knocking him out, sobering him up _then,_ and waking him up again. “C’mon, I wanna see the sun! Oh, he feels so _warm.”_

Yanking my mask back up, I scrambled after him before the fool could get himself kicked out of his internship before he even started. Luckily—unluckily?—it appeared that his coordination skills had also been affected so I managed to catch up with him before he did any damage.

“ _Get back here,”_ I growled, shifting his mask back in place and covering his mouth with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a tanned man in an ornate blue cloak approaching the podium at the front of the room, and I took that as my cue to yank Shirai back under the table. “Do you want to get us both kicked out? No? Then for fuck’s sake, sit still and let me knock some sense back into you!”

“Mrmph, quit it already,” Shirai complained, squirming away from me as I tried, futilely, for the umpteenth time to press a glowing green hand to his head. Unfortunately, I couldn’t just tackle him like I wanted to since that kind of commotion would definitely give us away, table covering us or not. “I toldja, I don’t like the way it feels. It’s too _empty,”_ he shuddered. I leaned back, giving up for the moment.

“Empty? I suppose healing kido does feel rather sterile, when compared to most forms of reiatsu. Still, for it to bother you so much…” My voice trailed off and I pursed my lips. “Just how sensitive to spiritual energy _are_ you?”

“I told ya, my whole family are sensors,” he announced proudly before I managed to shut him up once more.

“Shush! Keep your voice down, will you?” I hissed frantically. Sure, the tablecloth provided some sound protection but not _that_ much. “Here, have some dango. Maybe some food will help.”

Shoving a plate of leftover dango at him, I took a moment to consider my options. Of course, I could always go back to plan A—knock him out with a quick application of reiatsu to the head, help his body metabolize the alcohol in his bloodstream while he was unconscious, and wake him up afterwards. However, if he was half as sensitive to reiatsu as I thought he was, he’d sense that kind of attack coming from a mile away, which upped the chances of something going wrong considerably.

 _You could always just leave him,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa thought irritably. _It’s not like you’re the one who’s drunk._

Well, yes. It would be the easiest option, certainly. However...

 _You hold no responsibility towards him. You don’t even_ know _him!_ Tenshi no Tsubasa snapped at me. _Just once, just_ once _in your life_ _I’d like to see you put yourself first._

 _It’s my fault he’s like this though,_ I thought guiltily. _He wouldn’t be drunk if it weren’t for me._

When the only response I received was a chilly silence, I flinched, biting my lip. _Tenshi?_

 _I’m not mad at you,_ she replied finally, something tired in her voice. _But I admit, little firebird, you do make my job very difficult at times._ She paused for a second. _But never mind that. What are you thinking?_

 _Well, there is one thing I can do,_ I said hesitantly, pulling a syringe out of my pocket. It was meant as a last resort, as Unohana’s concoctions tended to be on the stronger side, but—

“D’ya think that all the Kido Corps people end up with weird tan lines after a while?” Shirai wondered out loud, giggling to himself. “Oh man, that’d be _hilarious._ Like, imagine if I went up ta one of them and pulled down—”

That was as far as he got before I stabbed him in the arm with the syringe.

* * *

 

This was boring as hell.

“Miyagi Akane, Tamaki Daichi, and Toyama Megu will be assigned to Suzuki Chie,” Tsukabishi Tessai, the Kido Corps commander, announced. God, how many teams had that been now? Six? Seven? Ten? I fought to suppress a yawn as the students in question walked up to meet their instructor, absently noticing that there were only five other unassigned students left.

Glancing towards where Shirai was barely staying awake next to me, I resisted the urge to sigh. Well, at least the ceremony was almost over.

The good news was that Shirai was sober again, so there was no risk of him doing something like running up to the nearest Kido Corps officer and pulling their mask down. The bad news…well, the bad news was that while I had succeeded in waking him back up after getting rid of the _alcohol_ , the sedative drugs were still lingering in his system.

 _Useful drug, that,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa commented, sounding rather impressed. _It knocked him out like a light._

 _Tell me about it,_ I agreed. Legend had it that Unohana had invented this particular sedative a couple hundred years ago, after an epic drunken brawl had broken out in the Eleventh and the healers at the time needed a drug that didn’t react badly with alcohol. _Wish she’d invented an antidote while she was at it, though. Ah well, something to keep in mind for the future._

 _For the future? I do hope that you aren’t planning on making drugging your fellow teammates a habit,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said dryly.

 _Of course not. I only have so many sedatives,_ I replied absently as Tsukabishi called the second-to-last team up. Only Shirai, a dark-haired boy, and I were left.

I took a moment to study my final teammate. Black, neatly brushed hair, rectangular glasses, slightly on the thin side, bored manner— _good news is, he doesn’t look like the type to enjoy drinking sake._

 _Appearances can be misleading,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said a little sourly. _If he’s anything like you…well, there has to be_ some _method to how they separate you into teams. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was based on personality—I mean, you and Sensor-Boy over there both turned out to be the type of people to have picnics under tables at important social gatherings. Who knows, maybe Stick-Boy over there will turn out to be the type to set off fireworks inside a wooden building._

 _That was one time!_ I said indignantly. _Besides, you know Kukaku fireproofs the inside of every room._

 _Hmm,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said noncommittally. _Pay attention now, it’s almost your turn. Might want to wake up Sensor-Boy while you’re at it._

_Ah, right._

Glancing around to make sure that Tsukabishi and the other Kido Corps members weren’t looking our way, I took the opportunity to kick Shirai awake. He jolted, blinking rapidly for several moments before his eyes met mine.

“Wake up,” I hissed quietly as his face twisted into an odd expression, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to look grateful or scowl at me. “It’s almost our turn.”

As if on cue, Tsukabishi turned to look in our direction as the previous team exited. “Lastly, Shirai Arashi, Takeda Kaede, and Yukimura Hisana will be assigned to Niijima Jun.” At his words, the remaining Kido Corps officer stepped up and I realized with a jolt that this was my first time seeing Grumpy-face in nearly four months.

 _Guess I’ll have to start calling him Niijima-sensei now,_ I thought to myself as Tsukabishi turned to address us. _That’ll take some getting used to._

“Congratulations on your placement in the Kido Corps Internship Program,” he began solemnly, Grum—Niijima standing slightly behind him. “And I welcome you into our ranks. Each of you were selected based on certain traits you possess, including but not limited to above-average reiatsu sensitivity, exceptional reiatsu control, and a heightened desire to learn. Over the course of the next six months, you will be taught to—” He paused, sniffing the air before turning to look at Shirai and me, a stern frown on his face. “Are the two of you intoxicated right now?”

Grumpy-face inhaled sharply and Takeda whipped his head around to look at us in disbelief. Next to me, Shirai’s eyes had gone comically wide, a look of panic overtaking his features.

I closed my eyes—I’d forgotten that in the process of trying to wrestle my flask back from Shirai, I’d spilled a sizable amount of sake on us. Still, if we got kicked out for being drunk after I’d just spent the last half hour or so getting Shirai _sober,_ I was going to punch somebody.

“No, sir,” I said, slipping a polite smile on my face and hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. It wasn’t like I was lying—both Shirai and I were completely, utterly, 100% sober at the moment. A skeptical look crossed Tsukabishi’s face.

“You reek of alcohol, girl,” he said, voice more than a little disapproving. Determinedly ignoring Grumpy-face and the glare boring into the side of my head, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“It makes an effective mosquito repellent, sir,” I said, keeping my back straight even as I winced internally. _That_ was the best excuse I could come up with?

“A mosquito repellent,” Tsukabishi repeated slowly. “And him?”

He pointed to Shirai, who smelled even stronger than I did. It didn’t help that his pupils were still dilated from the drug I’d injected.

“There are a lot of mosquitoes after him, sir,” I said through gritted teeth.

“And the clothes aren’t enough of a deterrent?” Tsukabishi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They are very determined bugs, sir,” I replied.

He stared at me for a long moment. I met his gaze evenly, expression carefully blank—we both knew I was lying about the alcohol, but like hell I was going to admit it. That was going against the first rule of bullshitting—when in doubt, deny, deny, deny.

“So they are,” Tsukabishi said finally, expression unreadable. I held back a sigh of relief as his attention shifted, turning to address all three of us. “Your lessons begin this Wednesday. You are to report to training ground B at eight a.m. sharp. Dismissed.”

Before leaving, I saw him shake his head and mutter something to himself. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I caught the words ‘remind me’, ‘Kisuke’, and ‘headache.’

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura-san? Yukimura-san, are you in here? There’s—oh.” Tsukuda’s voice trailed off as she took in the no doubt pathetic sight I made, sprawled on the couch with my face buried in a pillow.

“What is it? I swear, if some other shinigami needs me to put their arm back on again, then forget it. It can just stay unattached for all I care,” I grumbled half-heartedly.

“Oh, so you finally managed to reattach a limb?” Tsukuda asked brightly, ignoring my disgruntled tone. “That’s great! I know it took _forever_ before I was allowed to participate; it’s one of the hardest procedures.”

“You can say that again.” Despite myself, I felt a proud smile tugging at my lips. “Reconnecting all those tiny blood vessels and nerves? It’s a headache and a half. At least necrosis was only starting to set in, it could’ve been worse.”

“Iemura-san didn’t give you too hard of a time, then?” Tsukuda questioned. I snorted.

“Well, he let me do the bulk of the work instead of just shoving me off to the side and doing everything himself, so that’s something. Still, you know Iemura-senpai—calling him a perfectionist is an understatement.” Tsukuda gave me a flat look.

“I hardly think that’s the sort of thing _you_ should be saying, Yukimura-san,” she said pointedly.

“Wow, someone’s sassy today. You used to be so nice to me,” I pouted, slipping on a faux-mournful expression I’d learned from Urahara. “Where did all this attitude come from?”

“Oh, a certain someone both you and I know. She’s a bit of a bad influence, I’m afraid,” Tsukuda replied sweetly. I raised my eyebrows.

“A bad influence, huh? I don’t know, she sounds like a total badass to me,” I grinned. Tsukuda coughed, covering her mouth with one hand.

“‘Badass’ might be going too far. Trouble, more like.” She paused for a moment, expression softening. “Great friend, though. I wouldn’t have her any other way.” I blinked.

“Uh…just to clarify, we _are_ talking about me, right?” Something like frustrated disbelief crossed Tsukuda’s face before she managed to get her expression under control.

“I—yes,” she took a calming breath and ran a hand through her hair. “ _Yes,_ I was talking about you.”

“Oh. Good,” I said, relieved, and smiled teasingly at her. “Glad to see I don’t have to compete with anyone else for the title of ‘most disruptive influence in Tsukuda Ayame’s life.’” Tsukuda let out a sudden, harsh laugh.

“Oh, believe me,” she said, an odd smile twisting her lips. “No one could _ever_ compete with you.” There was something…off about her tone of voice and I frowned, walking up to her.

 “Is something wrong?” I asked softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Her eyes flickered down.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…I suppose I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” Tsukuda said stiffly.

“Really? Like what?” I asked cautiously. “Anything I can help with?” She let out a strange, choked sound, almost like an aborted laugh.

“No…no, there isn’t anything you can do.” She said, still not meeting my eyes. “I’m going on a date Friday and I suppose I’m a little nervous. I apologize if I don’t seem myself.”

“A date? That’s fantastic!” I said encouragingly, keeping my tone gentle. It made sense that she’d be feeling apprehensive; hell, our first meeting revolved around how awful her experiences with men had been. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal to be nervous. Although, you know I have your back if anything goes wrong, right? Seriously, if they make you uncomfortable in any way, just tell me and I’ll make sure to straighten things out with them.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Yukimura-san,” she smiled faintly.

“Well, I hope it goes well for you. You must be excited,” I said warmly, even as I made a mental note to myself to keep a closer eye on her over the next week or so. You could never be too careful, after all.

“Mhm,” Tsukuda smiled noncommittally. “I’m sure it’ll be a nice distraction, if nothing else.”

“Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like with work and school piling up, my dates with Byakuya are the only thing keeping me sane,” I said commiseratingly. After a brief moment of hesitation, I pulled her into a quick hug. “Have fun, okay? You deserve a break from work.”

 Stepping back, I added, “Oh, I almost forgot to ask! What did you want from me?”

“Want from you—?” Tsukuda asked dazedly before realization dawned in her eyes. “Ah, there’s someone at the front desk, asking for a ‘Yuki-chan’? Well, they said that their friend had long black hair and purple eyes, so I assumed they meant you.”

“Ah.” I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling rather nervous myself. “You’d be correct.”

“I can tell her you’re busy if you don’t want to talk to her,” Tsukuda volunteered hesitantly, apparently sensing my apprehension.

“No, I’ll be fine. I should’ve done this a while ago, anyway,” I muttered, sending her a quick smile. “Thanks for the offer, though. That was sweet of you, Tsukuda-san.”

“Ayame.” When I looked at her in surprise, she flushed, ducking her head. “I…I’d like it if you called me Ayame, Yukimura-san. I-If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Ayame it is then,” I said, after a brief pause. Smile widening, I winked at her. “It’s a pretty name—it’d be a shame not to use it. Still, I hope you know that from now on, you aren’t allowed to call me Yukimura-san any more. It’s Hisana, understood?”

 

* * *

 

I found Ran lounging on one of the couches in the waiting room, a bored expression on her face. At the sight of me, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.

“Yuki-chan! There you are, I was beginning to think you’d never come,” she greeted me.

“Ah.” I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. “Sorry about that, I got a little held up. I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

“Don’t worry about it. You know I’d wait forever for you, sweetheart,” she purred. A choking noise came from somewhere behind me, and I resisted the urge to scowl.

“Nice to know. I’ll be sure to take my time next time,” I retorted, unimpressed. Ran grinned unrepentantly at me.

“You’re learning,” she said approvingly. “But anyway, down to business. Where’s this Yukimura I’ve heard so much about?” The choking sound came back, only louder this time, and I looked behind me to see Yamanaka gaping in blatant confusion, eyes flickering between the two of us.

“Yukimura? But that’s—”

“Yamanaka-san, thank you but I’ll handle it from here,” I interrupted, grabbing Ran by the wrist, dragging her into an empty room, and proceeding to slam the door shut. Turning around, I found Ran looking at me with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” She asked, even as I tried to figure out a way to gracefully tell her that she’d unknowingly spent the past couple of weeks gossiping about me _to_ me. “Is there something about Yukimura that I should know?”

“Um,” I said eloquently, wincing a little. How do you even answer a question like that? “Just that she’s…probably not what you’re expecting.” Understatement of the century. “So, um, keep an open mind, okay?”

“I doubt she can be _that bad,_ considering that she’s managed to win over _Kuchiki Byakuya,_ of all people,” Ran laughed. “Look, if she doesn’t want to meet me Yuki-chan, just say so. I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’s just…well, it’s a little hard to introduce you when you already know her.”

“I don’t follow,” Ran said, frowning, after a confused pause. “What do you mean, I know her? That’s—” She stilled, and I could almost see her mind putting two and two together. “I’m looking at her right now, aren’t I?” Ran finished, voice faint. I smiled wryly, slipping into a bow.

“Yukimura Hisana, at your service,” I said. When she didn’t respond, just continued staring at me with slightly-widened blue eyes, I blurted out, “Look, I know I should’ve told you sooner. At the very least, when you first brought up the subject of…well, me, I should’ve come clean about my identity—”

“Oh my god, I speculated about you having a threesome with Zaraki Kenpachi _to your face.”_ Ran whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. Her expression was one of dawning horror. “And…and that one time someone saw you leaving the Twelfth at four in the morning…holy shit, I told you about that one rumor regarding you and Kurotsuchi Mayuri.”

“Yeah, that was very much not appreciated,” I grimaced, shuddering. It had certainly proved that there were some things I’d be happier not knowing.

“No wonder you always tried to change the subject!” Ran exclaimed. “You must have felt so awkward, I can’t even imagine…why didn’t you tell me?” I shrugged, looking away.

“At first, it was because it was nice talking to someone so far removed from my personal life. I was more likely to receive an unbiased opinion that way, and you didn’t seem to mind the anonymity either. After a while, though…” I took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose I wanted you to get to know _me,_ not…not Yukimura Hisana, the Rukongai girl who somehow managed to get one of Soul Society’s most eligible bachelors to fall in love with her.” _Angel of Inuzuri, leading researcher in one of the afterlife’s rarest diseases, Kido Corps candidate, first person since Ichimaru Gin to attain shikai within six months, member of the First Class, Unohana Retsu’s personal student, future lady of the Kuchiki Clan._ All of a sudden, I felt rather exhausted.

“Oh, Yuki-chan,” Ran sighed, stepping forward and wrapping me in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry. I probably don’t meet your expectations,” I said, voice muffled from where my face was pressed against her chest.

“No, you didn’t. You surpassed them,” she said gently. “And I want you to know that you being Yukimura Hisana changes nothing for me. You’re still Yuki-chan to me, and if you need a break from the rest of your life, I’m here for you.”  

“Pathetic, isn’t it? That I need an escape from my own name?” I asked, a hint of something bitter entering my voice. I wasn’t sure what I was angrier about—the fact that I needed an escape, or the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to turn to anyone else for relief.

 _I mean, at least the latter made sense,_ I tried to rationalize. Kaien had enough to deal with; I barely saw him a couple times a month now. I hardly saw Isane anymore, not to mention I already felt guilty enough for leaving her behind; it would be _incredibly_ unfair of me to burden her with my problems. Rukia and Renji were too young, Eiji, Hiro, and Chiyo _felt_ too young, and I was pretty sure talking to Unohana would be like disappointing every parental figure I’d ever had at once. I’d have to be blind not to notice the way Tsu—Ayame looked up to me, but admiration wasn’t what I needed right now. Ikkaku and Yumichika would probably tell me to fight it off, talking to Iemura would make things unbearably awkward for us both, and Byakuya…

 _Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that it is a perfectly acceptable act to confide in your mate,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said pointedly.

 _Well yes, but what would it even accomplish? Maybe if he could_ do _something about my problems—which I brought onto myself, I might add—but he can’t. At best, he’ll just worry needlessly and at worst, he’ll feel guilty which will make_ me _feel guilty and then we’ll be in a worse place than where we started._

 _A burden shared is a burden halved,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said sanctimoniously.

 _Don’t you quote proverbs at me!_ I scowled. _Besides, I have you to talk with, don’t I?_

 _And what does it say about you that the only one you trust wholeheartedly is a figment of your own soul?_ She asked quietly. _I will always be there for you, but we both know that I cannot tell you anything you aren’t already aware of. An outside perspective doesn’t hurt._

_I talk to Ran, don’t I?_

_And it took the better part of four months for you to trust her with your name. Besides, how long will it take before you care enough about her that you cannot bear to let her see the shakier parts of you? Before you decide to protect her from your insecurities, your fears and doubts, your weaknesses?_

I didn’t have an answer for her and so I did the mature thing in this situation—I proceeded to hum the most obnoxious tune I could think of until she got the hint and backed off, ruffling her feathers in frustration.

“Hello? Earth to Yuki-chan?” Ran said, waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked, refocusing back on the conversation.

“Sorry, what?” I asked. She grinned, tapping me on the head.

“I was just about to say before you went all cloudy that I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘understandable,’ not pathetic. Honestly, if I had to deal with the things that you do, I’d want a break too.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” I murmured.

“It’s the truth,” she said seriously, before pausing for a moment. “Besides, Matsumoto Rangiku doesn’t hang out with pathetic people.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to choke.

 _Talk about things I should have figured out a long time ago. I mean, how many beautiful, strawberry-blonde Tenth Division shinigami can there be?_ I mused, continuing to stare at Ran in shock while doing my best _not_ to appear like I was staring at her in shock. _Still, what are the chances?_

 _Knowing you? Fairly high, actually,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said crossly.

_…I didn’t ask for this, you know._

_And yet somehow trouble always seems to happen to you anyway._

“—and hey wait, does this mean that Kuchiki Byakuya is the massive dork of a boyfriend you keep telling me about? The one you said spent an afternoon with you naming fish? Holy shit, the way I look at the world has changed,” Rangiku said in awe. I just nodded numbly, simultaneously hit by the sudden realization that this probably meant the guy she was so depressed about was one Ichimaru Gin. This was just one clusterfuck after another, wasn’t it?

“Ugh, well I have to go now, but if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me. Also, expect to be interrogated mercilessly on how good of a kisser Kuchiki is this Sunday. I’m gonna need _details,”_ Rangiku winked, leering at me. _That_ broke me out of my funk.

“Ran-chan!” I squawked indignantly.

“And hey, if you two ever consider, ah, adding another person to your bed, keep your good friend Ran-chan in mind, yeah?” She asked merrily, watching the way my cheeks heated up with clear delight. I was struck with the unholy realization of just _why_ Ichimaru Gin considered Matsumoto Rangiku a friend— obviously, the two of them were descended from Satan; they’d probably bonded over things like the humiliation of poor, innocent healers.

“Alright, that’s it! Out, out!” I started pushing her towards the door. “I’m still technically on shift and you’ve been here way too long…the last thing my reputation needs is for a rumor of me taking a female lover to pop up—”

“Oh, don’t worry about the rumors. I’ll take care of them,” Rangiku said lightly. “It’s the least I could do, after all.” I stopped pushing, staring at the back of her head suspiciously.

“Really?” I asked slowly. “You don’t have to. I can handle a bit of gossip.”

“But it still bothers you, right?” Rangiku smiled, shaking her head. “Can’t say I blame you; if there was a rumor flying around that I was involved with that clown freak Kurotsuchi, I’d be pissed too.” She turned to look at me, eyes hardening. “I look after my friends, Yuki-chan. Believe me, by the end of this month, the rumors won’t be a problem anymore.”

I swallowed, looking down. Yeah, I could see why Gin was so desperate to protect this girl. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I’d seen firsthand just how hurt Rangiku was by his attempts to distance himself from her. And yet if he let her in, there was no way she’d let him do things on his own.

“You have awful taste in men,” I murmured, almost inaudibly. Freaking Gin. She just _had_ to love the one dumbass who’d devoted his life to a suicidal plan to kill the most powerful shinigami in existence. The only way things could be worse would be if she’d pulled a Momo and fell in love with _Aizen_ instead.

“What was that?” She asked, brow furrowing.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just…your friends are lucky to have you.”

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura? Yukimura, wake up!” I groaned, opening my eyes blearily to see Iemura frowning down at me.

“Eh? Is my lunch hour over already?” I asked, blinking.

“You have another ten minutes before your shift begins,” he informed me, before hesitating. “Are you alright? This is the third time I’ve caught you sleeping here during your lunchtime.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said, waving him off as I reached into my bag to pull out a ration bar. Cramming half of it into my mouth, I added, “I jus’ ‘ad a ‘ead’ake.”

“Speak like a civilized human being, please,” Iemura said irritably. With a Herculean effort, I managed to swallow the dry-as-dust bar in my mouth.

“I said, it’s nothing to worry about. I just have this headache that comes and goes,” I repeated. A familiar reiatsu presence prickling at the edge of my awareness was all the warning I received before I found myself face to face with one of my least favorite people in the world. “Aaaaaand it’s back.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Iemura said with all the enthusiasm that I felt—which is to say, none. “What can I do for you today, Ichimaru-san?” Gin grinned, slow and sly, and I found myself resisting the urge to throw the rest of my ration bar at him and his god-awful life decisions.

“Maintenance request from the Fifth. Hope you’re good at carpentry, Hisana-chan,” Gin said cheerfully, ignoring Iemura completely.

“Is it your face I’m nailing to the ground?” I wondered. “No? Then forget it—I still have six minutes of my lunch break left and I plan on making the most of it.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I’ll give ya this,” Gin sing-songed, pulling a persimmon from his sleeve and waving it in front of me temptingly. “Promise it tastes better than that crap you’re currently eating.”

“For your information, that ‘crap’ is the nutritional equivalent of four servings of vegetables,” I defended, even as I stared longingly at the fruit in front of me.

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s crap,” Gin pointed out. When I remained stubbornly silent, he added cajolingly, “I have a whole bag o’ them at the Fifth. You can have _all_ the persimmons ya want there.” I glanced between the remainder of the ration bar still in my hand and the sweet-looking fruit in front of me, took a moment to mentally weigh my dignity against free food, and proceeded to snatch the persimmon out of his hand.

“Iemura-senpai, put me down for that mission,” I said, biting into the fruit sullenly, glaring at a very smug-looking Gin. “And you, don’t say a word. You _know_ I can’t get persimmons like this anywhere else.”

“I am rather talented at growing them,” Gin said modestly. “Now come on— _you_ have a bookshelf ta fix, and _I_ have an afternoon of entertainment set out for me.”

 

* * *

 

“So when are ya gonna introduce me ta your mini-me?” Gin asked as I chewed mutinously on a mouthful of persimmon.

“Never, if I can help it,” I muttered, sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye. Try as I might, I still couldn’t see what Ran saw in him…was it the creepy smile? The infuriating voice? The tendency to mindfuck everyone he talked to? Okay, I’d admit that the persimmons he grew were…unfairly addicting, but she couldn’t like him _just_ for that, right? “Why do you want to meet her anyway? I was under the impression that you didn’t like kids.”

“Untrue,” Gin pouted. “It’s just that kids don’t really like _me.”_

“I can’t imagine why,” I said dryly.

“Well, ya can’t deny me my curiosity, Hisana-chan. I admit, I’m looking forward ta seeing—” His steps faltered for a fraction of a second. “—just how similar little Rukia-chan is to you.” He glanced down at me. “Are ya still hungry? We could get somethin’ more substantial for you ta eat first.”

“What—” I began before cutting myself off, the reason for Gin’s odd behavior becoming apparent as I sensed a familiar reiatsu signature approaching our direction. “Sure. You’re paying, though.”

 _Helping him now, little firebird? My, how times have changed,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said sardonically.

 _Oh, shut up. You know why I’m doing this,_ I retorted, mood taking a nosedive. _And I may not like the guy, but I understand his reasons._

I still wasn’t sure what to do about the Gin-Rangiku-Aizen situation. I mean, Gin could hardly back out now—somehow, I doubted he could just walk up to Aizen and hand in his resignation letter and his two weeks’ notice. Therefore, Rangiku getting involved with Gin would probably lead to Rangiku getting involved with Aizen, and in no scenario did I see that ending well. Hell, she might even figure out what Gin was doing, in which case there was a chance she’d defect right alongside her childhood friend, and that was one outcome I wanted to avoid at all costs. If Aizen didn’t end up killing her, the Gotei 13 would.

As much as I hated to admit it, Gin distancing himself from Rangiku was probably the best course of action here. It would…hurt her, undoubtedly, but at the same time, doing anything else would make it harder for her to move on if he died, and wouldn’t that be worse?

 _Interesting that you should say that,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said coolly. _For all that you claim to despise the man, you still sympathize with his actions. I suppose I can see why. After all, you’d do the same thing in his shoes, wouldn’t you?_

I didn’t reply. We both knew the answer to that question.

Shaking my head to clear it, I started marching in the opposite direction of Rangiku’s approaching presence. “I actually know a really good ramen place that’s close by. Hurry up, I’m starving.”

“I can see that,” Gin said, voice slightly puzzled. I could tell that he was confused by my sudden willingness to go along with things, but thankfully he didn’t question it. I didn’t stop until we were a good five blocks away, when I caught sight of a familiar face.

“Hey, is that Tsukuda?” I blinked, taking in the pink-flowered kimono she was wearing and the artful way her hair was arranged. “Ah, she must be going on her date.”

“Who?” Gin asked in incomprehension, before he caught sight of her. “Oh, Squeaky! I remember her. The little mouse that’s always followin’ ya around, right?”

“For the last time, stop calling her that,” I said, annoyed. “What is it with you and nicknames, anyway? You’ve never given me one.”

“You’ve never needed one,” Gin shrugged.

“I’m not even going to try to understand what you meant by that,” I muttered, before waving to get Tsukuda’s attention.

“Tsu—I mean, Ayame-chan! Over here!”

“Ayame-chan?” Gin asked in amusement. “That’s new.”

“It’s a recent development. And _she_ was the one who requested that I call her by her first name, so don’t even start,” I said sharply, before jogging over to where Tsukuda was standing.

“Y-Yukimura-san,” she said, startled. A blush started forming on her cheeks. “I-I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“What did I say about you calling me that? It’s Hisana, remember? There’s no need to be so formal,” I scolded.

“Hisana-san, then,” she said softly, voice hesitant. I smiled reassuringly at her.

“That’s it. Don’t worry, I won’t take up too much of your time. Just thought I’d say hi, tell you how pretty you look,” I grinned. “You know, I don’t think I’ve actually seen you outside your uniform before? That kimono looks beautiful on you.”  

“You think so?” She asked shyly. I nodded earnestly.

“Oh, definitely. Whoever your date is, they’re a lucky soul. There’s just one thing…” I reached out and smoothed out a crease in her kimono. “Okay, _now_ you’re perfect.”

Her blush deepened, a bashful smile now playing around the corners of her lips. “You…you look really nice t—”

“As amusin’ as this is ta watch, we _do_ need ta be somewhere,” Gin cut in, resting a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t quite repress a shudder and I scowled, glaring at nothing in particular. Stupid Gin and his stupidly cold hands—if I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn he was some reptilian, cold-blooded were-lizard or something. He turned to look at Tsukuda and his smile widened. “Squeaky, best of luck on your date. Try not ta set any unreasonable expectations, ‘kay? Fantasy can only take ya so far.”

I waited until we were out of earshot before murmuring, “That was…unexpectedly nice of you.”

“I told ya, I don’t like it when my targets are too easy. Besides, you were doin’ a fine enough job on your own. Playin’ with poor lil’ Squeaky’s feelings like that…I didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, frowning. I tried to think back, but I couldn’t think of a single instance where I’d been _mean_ to her. If anything, I thought I’d been going out of my way to be nice _._

Gin paused, staring at me. “You really don’t know, do ya. The effect you can have on people.” His voice was flat.

 _…I think what he means is that you have a tendency to go overboard, sometimes. I know you want her to be comfortable around you, but maybe it’s best to back off a little right now,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa explained quietly, after a pause.

“I just…I don’t know what I did wrong! I…I know that I’m not the best with boundaries, and I can push at them sometimes, but she didn’t seem to _mind,”_ I replied out loud, bewildered. That was the thing that confused me—I was usually pretty good at telling when someone wanted me to _stop,_ and Tsukuda had displayed absolutely none of those signs. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Oh, you didn’t just push at her boundaries, you _demolished_ them. Always so _protective,_ so quick to rush to her defense, and with the compliments and the constant _touching_ …the poor thing stood no chance,” Gin said with relish, voice bordering on cruel. I flinched, unable to stop myself, and looked down at my feet.

“You can’t mean…” My voice trailed off. “She knows I don’t think of her that way.”

“And she knows that you’re head over heels for Kuchiki, but when has love ever been logical?” Gin asked, the hint of bitterness in his voice so faint I almost missed it.

“So what can I do? Start avoiding her?” I snapped, glaring at him. _Like you? How much of you avoiding Rangiku, getting involved with Aizen in the first place, is due to wanting to protect her, and how much of it is due to you not knowing how to deal with the fact that she cares for you?_

“Does it matter? Either way, you’ll end up hurting her,” Gin shrugged, a hint of something tired flashing across his features. “That’s just how life works.”

 

* * *

 

Interlude

“So _you’re_ Hisana-chan’s lil’ sister,” a soft, lilting voice said from behind her. Rukia whirled around to see a silver-haired teenager roughly the same age as Hisana studying her closely, head tilted to the side. He nodded towards the wooden training sword in Rukia’s hands. “Trainin’, huh? Studious of ya.”

“Who are you?” Rukia asked warily. “You’re not a student here.”

“I’m not?” He exclaimed, looking down at his shihakusho in mock surprise. “Gee, what gave me away?” Rukia scowled, feeling a twinge of annoyance.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she spat out. “Who the hell are you and what do you want from me?"

“My, my, so touchy. Is that any way ta speak ta a shinigami officer? Keep talkin’ like that around the wrong people and you’ll be makin’ some powerful enemies real quick.” The stranger’s smile widened as Rukia took an involuntary step back. “Rukongai girl like you should know better. I’d watch that tongue of yours if I were you—ya might just end up losin’ it otherwise.”

“Y-You wouldn’t…” Rukia stammered, heart pounding, as her eyes flickered to the side—and it was just her luck that nobody was around, wasn’t it? She clenched her fists together, trying not to let her unease show on her face. “You’ll…you’ll get in trouble.”

The teen gasped theatrically in horror. “Oh no, not that. Anythin’ but _that.”_

Feeling a cold sweat break out on her face, Rukia blurted out, “Y-You said that you knew Hisana. She’d—”

“Yes, I suppose she would be rather irritated with me,” he mused to himself, and she wasn’t able to repress her shudder this time. His voice…it was like the sensation of spiders skittling across her spine. “Then again, who says she has ta know I was involved? Not like you’d be able ta tattletale on me. You know, with the lack of tongue and all,” the teen continued conversationally. At the sight of Rukia’s pale face, he grinned suddenly, smile sharp enough to cut.

“Kidding! Jeez, kids these days…no sense of humor,” he shook his head, eyes curving into happy crescents. “Lighten up, Rukia-chan!”

“Oh,” Rukia said weakly, forcing out a weak laugh. “That’s—”

“Do ya know how messy it is ta cut someone’s tongue out? Blood _everywhere,_ it’d take forever ta get it all out of my clothes. Nah, when it comes ta silencing someone, there are much more effective ways of goin’ about it,” he interrupted, expression switching from cheerful to dead serious in the span of a second.

“I—” Rukia choked out, eyes wide, before the teen’s lips quirked up.

“That was a joke, Rukia-chan,” he said gently, causing Rukia to flinch. For some reason, his soft tone frightened her more than the cruelly amused one from before. “Still, all jokin’ aside, I _would_ advise ya ta watch your manners. Never know who ya might piss off. Besides, what would your sister say if she heard ya bein’ so rude?” When Rukia didn’t say anything, he added, “Mouthin’ off like that, and ta a seated officer no less—” She couldn’t help but flinch again. “—at a time when she’s under a lot of pressure ta look good. Doesn’t she have enough ta deal with, without havin’ ta worry about you gettin’ into trouble?” Rukia swallowed, a sick sensation settling in her gut at the thought of becoming yet _another_ source of stress in Hisana’s life.

“You’re…you’re right. I’m sorry, I should have been more respectful,” she said finally, squeezing her eyes shut. She bowed in apology. “I hope you’ll forgive me, and…and please don’t tell Hisana about this.”

The teenager stilled, scrutinizing her closely as she did her best to appear contrite. After another searching look, he leaned back, seeming almost…disappointed?

“Well now, that’s more like it,” he said, tone unreadable. “Huh. Now _there’s_ an expression I never expected ta see on that face.” His gaze drifted up, focusing on something behind Rukia. “Ah, it seems like our meeting is about ta be cut short.”

“Rukia!” That was all the warning Rukia received before she suddenly found herself being pushed back. Glancing up in alarm, her eyes widened at the sight of Hisana stomping up to the silver-haired stranger (where had she even come from?), a look of absolute fury on her face. “ _You!”_

“Nice ta see you too, Hisana-chan,” the teenager said, giving her a cheerful little wave.

“What are you _doing_ here?” She hissed, practically vibrating with rage as she prodded him forcefully in the chest with an index finger.

“Well, since you were hardly ever gonna introduce us, I decided ta take things into my own hands,” he explained.

“ _I told you to stay away from her!”_

“Now you’re just bein’ unfair,” he pouted. “We were just _talking_. What, don’t you trust her ta handle a conversation with a shinigami by herself?”

“That’s not the point!” She snarled, causing Rukia’s stomach to drop. “You—”

“I wouldn’t hurt her, ya know,” he interrupted, cutting her off. He looked towards where Rukia was watching the proceedings with alarm and winked at her, tongue darting out of his mouth in a silent warning for her to keep her mouth shut. “I mean, Rukia-chan and I get along just fine, don’t we? Such a sweet, polite, little girl,” he cooed. Rukia swallowed heavily as she felt his reiatsu settle in the air around them—the weight of his attention a steadily squeezing pressure, like a giant snake coiling around her throat. “ _Far_ nicer than you are.”

“It’s true, nee-chan. We were just having a conversation,” Rukia said quietly.

“Is that so?” Hisana asked, voice slightly dubious. She shifted, cutting Rukia off from the stranger’s line of sight, and Rukia couldn’t help but slump in relief.

“Uh-huh,” Rukia said honestly. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

Hisana searched her features carefully for a moment before relaxing, apparently satisfied with what she’d found.

“See? Now if you won’t believe _me_ , will ya believe your own sister at least?” The teen asked exasperatedly. Hisana narrowed her eyes at him, pressing her finger into his chest even harder.

“Hurt her and believe me Ichimaru, I’ll repay the favor a thousand times over,” she said quietly. “She’s _mine,_ understood? Do what you like with me, but don’t you dare touch her.”

“Oh, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear,” the teen—Ichimaru—replied, glancing down at where her finger had burned a hole through his shirt. Reaching up, he grabbed her hand before she could pull away, holding it in an iron-tight grip. “In return, I’ll ask that ya watch that temper of yours. I like ya, Hisana-chan, but don’t forget your place. I won’t always be this forgivin’.”

“Are you threatening me now, Ichimaru-san?” Hisana asked lightly, raising an eyebrow. Rukia blinked, more than a little taken aback by the change in her tone. In fact, she almost seemed a little amused, which made _absolutely no sense whatsoever._

Somewhere between threatening Ichimaru and being threatened herself, her previous urgency had all but vanished and for the life of her, Rukia couldn’t figure out what had caused the change. There was no way Hisana couldn’t see that there was something majorly wrong with this guy, so why—?

“I could be,” Ichimaru purred, voice dropping. Rukia’s eyes widened as he stepped closer to her sister and pressed himself against her back, lazily running a finger across Hisana’s throat. “I could be _so very dangerous_ , you know _._ Just one slice—”

“Go ahead. If the alternative is enduring your company, it would be a mercy,” Hisana snorted. Ichimaru paused, smile softening into something more genuine.

“Ah, Hisana-chan. Never change,” he said, his voice almost fond.

“I don’t plan on it. And for the last time, get your hands off of me,” Hisana grumbled, before perking up. “Wait, that reminds me.” She reached into her bag and pulled out what was quite possibly the most hideous pair of mittens Rukia had ever seen. And given that she’d seen Kaori’s knitting, that was saying something.

“What—” Ichimaru began bemusedly, as she shoved the mittens—which were an eye-searing shade of orange with a green bullseye pattern on the back—into his hands.

“Your hands are always _freezing_ and since you won’t stop touching me, I came up with a win-win solution for the both of us,” Hisana announced proudly.

“These are the ugliest mittens I’ve ever seen. They’re not even practical—how the hell do ya expect me ta wield a sword in these?” Ichimaru asked in disbelief. At that, Hisana flushed a bright red.

“They were originally supposed to be gloves,” she muttered sullenly under her breath, before folding her arms over her chest and smirking at him. “But that doesn’t matter, the point is that you’re going to wear them anyway or else I’m telling Aizen-fukutaicho that you refused a handmade gift that I spent _hours and hours_ making. So there.”

Ichimaru stared at her. “This is petty, even for you Hisana-chan.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise,” she grinned. “They’ll be perfect for the upcoming winter, don’t you think? Consider it a belated birthday present.”

Grabbing Rukia by the hand, she proceeded to lead her away from Ichimaru and towards the Academy buildings. “No need to thank me, Ichimaru-san! The pleasure of giving you that gift is all I need, believe me.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to piss him off like that?” Rukia asked shakily, once she was sure they were out of earshot.

“Piss him off? Nah, at most it’ll annoy him a little,” Hisana answered absently, before glancing at her in concern. “Are you alright? You said you were okay before, but I know that even the shortest conversations with him can be…trying.”

“I’m fine,” Rukia said shortly. “Who is he, anyway?”

“Ichimaru Gin, third seat of the Fifth Division.” Hisana hesitated for a moment before continuing, expression serious. “I don’t want you around him, okay? He’s…he’s not someone you want the attention of.” Rukia nodded, she could do that—if she never talked to the guy again, it would be too soon.

“You and he seemed…close,” she said awkwardly. Hisana laughed, a little harshly.

“Not by choice, I assure you. My relationship with him is…well, it’s complicated.” She was quiet for a minute. “The thing with Ichimaru is, once he starts playing with you, the easiest—and probably safest—way to get him to stop is to just wait for him to get bored.”

“And is he? Growing bored?” Rukia asked, already knowing the answer to that question. Hisana smiled tiredly.

“He’s not so bad, once you get used to him,” she said instead, glancing down at Rukia. “Really.”

“How are you not afraid of him?” Rukia demanded. “He’s…” She thought back to his voice, his ever-present smile, the way his eyes were narrowed into slits, and her words dried up in her throat.

“Yes,” Hisana agreed, not unkindly. “But…well you’ll understand, soon enough. After the first time you witness a spar between two higher-seated officers, the first time you meet a captain, the first time their control slips around you and you feel like you can’t breathe…well, suffice to say that if you can get used to all of that, you can get used to a lot of things, you know? Including Ichimaru and his weirdness.”

“So, what, you just got used to it, all that stuff you just said? Stopped being afraid?” Rukia asked in disbelief. “Just like that?” She hadn’t met any captains yet, but if their reiatsu felt anything like Ichimaru’s— _crushing, overwhelming, suffocating—_ she doubted it was the kind of thing you could just _get used_ to.

“I suppose it’s a matter of choosing what and what not to focus on. If I spent my days obsessing over the many ways the people here could kill me, I’d drive myself insane. So I don’t,” Hisana shrugged and Rukia came to the abrupt realization that yes, it really was just that easy for her. Because…well honestly, nothing had changed much for her in that regard, had it? Even discounting the fact that Hisana had started robbing people twice her size when she was only ten years old, she’d been negotiating with drug lords and yakuza bosses and other hardened criminals for the past six decades. While shinigami were several magnitudes more powerful than the average drug lord, the principle remained the same—and the fact was, Hisana had been holding her own against people who could easily kill her (talking back to them, saying no to them, _befriending them_ ) for nearly her entire lifetime.

“Ichimaru is a special case, because he doesn’t hide how dangerous he is. He flaunts it, actually. But for most people, it’ll be easier to adjust to being around them. Despite how much they may seem like gods, they aren’t—even captains have quirks, like playing music at three a.m., or having a weakness for barbeque, or collecting bonsai trees. I’m not saying _forget_ how powerful they are, just remember that they’re not as different from you as they may seem,” Hisana explained. “And hey, you already have some experience! You adjusted to Byakuya fairly quickly, didn’t you?”

“Because you were comfortable around him and so I knew he wouldn’t hurt me,” Rukia scowled, struggling to keep the frustration out of her tone. Some shinigami-in-training _she_ was. What kind of shinigami could only feel safe when their big sibling was around to protect them?

“And I won’t let anyone hurt you here,” Hisana promised. “Not Ichimaru, not any of the captains, not anyone.” Rukia didn’t say anything for a long moment and a hint of worry flashed over Hisana’s face. “Imouto?”

“I believe you,” Rukia said, biting her lip, and she did. There’d never been a single instance in her life where she hadn’t felt like she could rely on Hisana, and she was sure that with her here, she’d be fine—maybe after a while, she’d even stop being so scared of Ichimaru.

It was the fact that she wasn’t quite sure she could survive _without_ relying on Hisana that was the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to take a moment to again thank all of you for your support for this story! Honestly, knowing that there are people out there who enjoy and look forward to my writing is the best birthday gift you could give me  So if there was a particular bit you liked (about this chapter, or in general), please tell me in a review! I promise I read each and every one of them. Also, if you have any questions, feel free to drop by my tumblr (cooliogirl101) and ask me there, or drop me a PM.


	30. Chapter 30

If I had thought even for a moment that becoming a teacher would soften Grumpy-face up, I was gravely mistaken.

“Soggy biscuits!” Shirai (aka Idiot Teammate #1) yelped, diving out of the way of a bolt of lightning. “Cold pea soup! Sour prunes!”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I shrieked back as a giant fireball soared my way. Releasing my hold on the reiryoku particles beneath my feet, I let gravity pull me out of the way of a painful, fiery death. A surge of heat passed over my head, far too close to my liking, and I briefly debated just letting myself fall the rest of the way to the ground. Sure, it’d probably result in half my bones breaking, but I _probably_ wouldn’t die and it couldn’t be worse than getting hit by lightning for the sixth time, right?

As if hearing my thoughts, Takeda (aka Idiot Teammate #2) swooped in and grabbed me by the arm, his grip painfully tight.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, a slightly mad glint in his eyes as he glared at me through slightly-crooked glasses. “No, if I have to suffer through this, so do you. You are _not_ leaving me alone with food obsessed moron over there.”

“Burnt pile of hamburger!” Both of us glanced over to see Shirai—whose left sleeve was now on fire—trying frantically, and futilely, to Stop, Drop, and Roll in mid-air. He was succeeding about as well as could be expected, which was to say not at all.

“Does it bother you too?” I asked conversationally, absently noting that I should probably head over and stop Shirai from turning into, well, a burnt pile of hamburger, but feeling too tired to bother.

“The way that he swears? Oh, definitely,” Takeda responded. Turning his attention back to Shirai—I couldn’t help but sigh when I saw that in the process of trying to smother the flames, he’d somehow spread the fire to his ass—Takeda rolled his eyes and lifted one hand.

“Hadou #21: Tatsumaki,” he said, causing a vortex of swirling wind to extend from his palm and slam into Shirai’s abdomen, sending him flying about twenty feet back.

“Takeda-san, the point of this exercise was to assist your teammates in evading my attacks, not to attack them yourself,” Niijima-sensei said exasperatedly as he appeared out of nowhere, causing Takeda to jolt in surprise. I didn’t blame him; only long exposure to Yoruichi (and Kaien…and Byakuya…and Gin…and the rest of those ‘look-how-fast-I-am’ show-offs) kept me from doing the same.

“He’ll live,” Takeda said indifferently, recovering with admirable quickness. As if to prove his point, Shirai chose that moment to show up.

“Oi! What was that for, stupid squash?!” He squawked, storming up to Takeda in anger. With his singed hair and slightly-smoking clothes, I couldn’t help but compare him to partially cooked rooster, if partially cooked roosters could talk, that was.

“Saving your life,” Takeda said calmly. “You’re welcome.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Niijima rub his forehead tiredly; if he hadn’t just spent the past hour lobbing fireballs at my head, I might have sympathized with him.

“Yeah? And you couldn’t have done that _without_ almost tearing a hole through my stomach?” Shirai asked sarcastically.

“I simply wanted to help. I see now that my actions were a mistake; rest assured, next time I’ll leave you to burn,” Takeda said icily, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be the hero. Seriously, wind? Come on, it was sheer luck you didn’t just _fan_ the flames. Next time, you’ll be pouring oil on me and calling it—”

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to take that suggestion into account should this happen again—”

The muscle under Niijima’s right eye was beginning to develop an alarming twitch. Eyeing him warily, I decided to put a stop to things before he burst a blood vessel or something.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped a painfully polite smile on my face, marched up to the two of them, and promptly bonked their heads together.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” I asked innocently as Shirai and Takeda let out identical yelps of pain. “My bad.” Smile widening, I continued brightly, “Wow, guess I misjudged my strength there. Amazing how a little tiredness can affect your concentration, huh? Imagine how much worse it’d be if we had to do ‘teamwork exercises’ for another hour because Niijima-sensei decided we needed more bonding time. Man, my focus could slip to the point where _someone could really get hurt._ Good thing that’s not going to happen though, right?”

“I—” Shirai gulped as I turned to him, mouth stretched so wide my cheeks were beginning to hurt. I couldn’t see much given the way my eyes were almost squinted shut, but I thought he may have paled. “Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought.” Patting him gently on the back, I looked back to where Niijima was observing us silently. As I met his eyes, he raised an eyebrow questioningly at me.

“Are you alright with healing them, or should I send them to the Fourth?” He asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” It was good practice, anyway. Shirai, the oversensitive wuss, complained so much whenever I did the slightest thing wrong that I was improving my technique by leaps and bounds.

Turning back to my teammates, I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, you two stink. Go take a shower; I’ll meet you down there in a few.”

“That’s hardly my fault,” Takeda said, stung, even as Shirai made a face at me.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that both of you smell like a bonfire gone wrong right now,” I pointed out, giving Takeda a playful shove downwards. “Go on, get cleaned up.”

“Yes, mom,” Shirai mumbled under his breath, then hastily flash-stepped after Takeda in the direction of the showers before I could retaliate.

“They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?” Niijima murmured from behind me as I scowled after Shirai’s retreating figure.

“That they are,” I agreed, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. It abruptly struck me that this was the first time I’d been alone with Niijima since…well, since our lessons ended last semester. Nudging him gently, I asked, “So how does it feel to be an official teacher now, Niijima-sensei?”

In response, he simply raised an eyebrow at me. “So polite. What happened to ‘Grumpy-kun’?”

“What happened to ‘I’m never going to become your sensei’?” I teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll go back to calling you Grumpy-kun eventually. Still, it took me _over six months_ to learn your real name; it’d be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

“Hn,” he snorted as we both started descending towards the ground. “It seemed cruel to pawn you off to one of my unsuspecting colleagues. I suspect they’d never recover.”

“And what about _my_ wellbeing, huh? As I remember, you never had any qualms about shooting fireballs at me. Something that hasn’t changed, as proven by today’s lesson,” I said, making a face at him.

“It got you used to defending yourself and air-walking, didn’t it?” He said blandly. I had to concede the point; I’d certainly gotten over my remaining qualms about _standing in fucking mid-air_ in record time. As it turned out, it was rather difficult to worry about minor things like breaking the laws of physics when your physical wellbeing depended on your ability to break said laws of physics.

“Or maybe you’re just sadistic,” I grumbled, unwilling to admit that to his face.

“Can’t I be both?” He replied before giving me a light shove in the direction of the Academy. “Go. Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you smell any more attractive than a couple of sweaty, teenage boys right now. A shower would do you a world of good.”

“Right. You just want me to head back because it’s been five minutes which means Takeda’s probably thirty seconds away from trying to murder Shirai again and you don’t want to deal with it yourself,” I said flatly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Niijima said, an unconvincingly innocent expression on his face. For some reason, it seemed oddly familiar. “But if by some coincidence Takeda _is_ currently trying to drown Shirai in the showers, well…breaking up disputes will be a good learning experience for you.” I scowled at him and he smiled under his mask, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Keep doing that and I’ll have to start calling you Scowly-face,” he said lightly, flicking me on the forehead. “Wouldn’t want that, would we now?” He paused for a second. “Although, there’s a thought.”

“What is?” I asked, suddenly wary.

“Nicknames,” he replied, staring at me thoughtfully. “Normally, official codenames are assigned upon initiation into the Kido Corps but…well, I don’t see why we can’t start a little early. Just for practice, you understand. It’d be a handy way to signal to your teammates whenever you need to discuss your internship, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of suspicious?” I asked carefully. “Referring to each other by code names all the time, I mean. I thought the whole point was to _not_ attract attention.”

“And we won’t. Not if we do it right,” Niijima said, tone creepily cheerful.

I swallowed, suddenly getting a very bad feeling about all of this.

* * *

 

“Nice going, Shorty,” Shirai muttered mutinously. “Happy now?”

“Shut up, Shrimp,” I retorted as I rested my head on a stack of books, too tired to do more than offer him a weak glare. “Why the hell are you blaming me for this? It’s hardly my fault. I mean, _I’m_ not exactly happy about this either.” ‘Not happy’ was an understatement. Honestly, Grumpy-face was supposed to be the _professional_ one out of all of us, so where the hell was all this pettiness coming from?

Shirai glowered at me.

“Not your fault?! Excuse me, who was the one who put the idea of nicknames into sensei’s head in the first place? Couldn’t have just called him ‘sir’ like a normal person—oh no, _you_ just had to go and call him ‘Grumpy-face.’” Next to us, Takeda remained pointedly silent, which was about as close as he could bring himself to agreeing with Shirai.

“Oh, grow up. It’s not like I knew this was going to happen when I started calling him that,” I snapped, wondering not for the first time what I’d done to deserve being put on a team with an overgrown toddler, a snarky teenager whose only language seemed to be sarcasm, and a teacher who’d recently discovered his spiteful side. “And given that _your_ original nickname was going to be ‘Buzz,’ as in ‘Buzzed on a pathetically small amount of alcohol,’ I don’t see what you have to complain about.” A slight coughing sound came from my left and I looked up to see Takeda hiding his smirk behind one hand.

“Petition to change it back to that?” He asked.

“Oh, stuff it, Glasses. Although, what’s up with that? I don’t see why you’re the only one without a height-themed nickname,” Shirai complained.

“Because compared to the two of you, there is nothing overly noticeable about my height,” Takeda said mildly. “I suppose I should be grateful that sensei at least made the effort to keep our code names as accurate as possible. It could be a lot worse.”

“What are you talking about, turnip?” Shirai asked, eyes narrowing. “How is ‘Shrimp’ accurate?”

“On the contrary, I believe it fits you rather well on several accounts,” Takeda said, tilting his head to the side. “At least in terms of size, personality, and things you like to steal.”

 _“For the last time,_ I did not steal your shrimp tempura, you delusional—”

“Hisana-san?” A familiar voice asked in surprise. Relieved at the interruption, I looked up to see Isane staring at our table in confusion.

“Isane! Hey!” I greeted her cheerfully, waving. “How have you been? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It has been awhile, hasn’t it?” She said softly, before glancing at Shirai and Takeda. “So who are your friends?”

“You mean you _haven’t_ told your friends about us, Yukimura? How rude,” Shirai said, grinning. I fought the urge to smack him.

“Who’d want to admit to knowing _you?”_ Takeda muttered, before offering Isane a slight nod. “Takeda Kaede, third year, First Class. Ignore the blond moron over there, he’s not important.”

“Um,” Isane said, glancing towards me uncertainly.

“If you must, I suppose you could refer to him as ‘Shrimp,’ Takeda allowed coolly. “He certainly has the brains of one.”

“Oi!” Shirai cut in, face turning red with anger. I rubbed my forehead wearily. “What is _wrong_ with you? Stop being such a…a _Brussel sprout_ and—”

“Oh no, a vegetable. How will I ever recover from such an insult?”

“Fuck this,” I muttered, deciding to execute the Yukimura Hisana tried-and-true method of escaping—that is, sliding out of my chair and crawling on my hands and knees towards the exit. I could play mediator when I _wasn’t_ operating on three hours of sleep.

“Uh,” Isane said timidly once we’d made it out of the library. “Interesting friends you have there?”

“‘Interesting’ probably isn’t a strong enough word,” I chuckled weakly, sitting down so that my back rested against a tree. “But I seem to have gotten stuck with them nonetheless.”

“They’re also from the First Class, then?” Isane asked, picking at a blade of grass.

“Mm, yeah. Takeda’s in his third year while the other one, Shirai Arashi, is in his second. We share a kido teacher, and one of our assignments is designing and completing a kido-related project by the end of the year. Our sensei, in his infinite wisdom, decided that he wanted us to work together on our projects, so we were helping each other come up with ideas,” I explained. “Granted, that’s not going so well right now, as you could probably tell.”

It just figured that the one thing that followed me across dimensions was the fact that group projects sucked.

“Are Shirai-san and Takeda-san in the middle of a fight?” Isane asked curiously.

“I sure hope so, because that implies there’s going to be an ‘end’ at some point,” I said wryly. “Let’s just say their personalities don’t mesh well and leave it at that.” I thought back to our first team training session together.

_“How can you not get it?! The leaf you want is right in front of you! It’s practically a shining beacon yelling at the top of its lungs! How can you not sense it?”_

_“Well perhaps if your explanations were not so abysmally stupid, I would have succeeded by now. What do you mean, ‘the leaf glows’? It looks the same as all the other leaves.”_

_“If you can’t understand my explanations, maybe you should reconsider who’s the stupid one. C’mon, it’s like comparing candles to a bonfire! Man, you suck worse than the other people in my class, and I didn’t think that was_ possible. _How are you gonna get into the Kido Corps if you can’t even find one measly reiatsu-infused leaf?”_

_“With hard work and logic. Not that I would expect you to understand.”_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“Being a sensor runs in your family, does it not?”_

_“What—are you saying that I only got accepted here because I can_ sense _stuff?”_

_“Are you saying you didn’t? You certainly didn’t get accepted for your brains.”_

_“Oh and like_ you’re _any better? You only got accepted because you’re good at book stuff, and you’re only good at_ that _because you’re good at memorizing things. Which is just dumb, by the way. ‘Oh, I’m Takeda Kaede and I’m so smart. I have a near-perfect memory. I can remember things and repeat them later.’ Big deal. You know what else can do that? A parrot!”_

“Shit. My hair is going to be completely white by the end of this year, isn’t it?” I groaned. “I don’t suppose you know where I could find hair dye? Because I’m going to need it.” 

“If it’s that bad, why’d your sensei have you work together on this? Why not independently?” Isane asked, confused. I sighed, running my hands over my face.

“Because as much as I hate to admit it, we balance each other out pretty well,” I admitted after a moment of grudging silence. “And anything we work on together is going to turn out better than anything we could accomplish on our own.”

Assuming that we could get to the ‘working together’ bit, of course. Takeda tended to respond to all of Shirai’s project ideas with ‘congratulations on reaching new levels of stupid’ and all of mine with ‘maybe if you were Tsukabishi Tessai.’ Shirai, on the other hand, tended to respond to all of Takeda’s project ideas with ‘boring as cauliflower’ and all of mine with ‘cool idea but you might die in the process.’

I just responded to both of them by writing myself increasingly urgent reminders to look into the mechanics of creating soundproof kido barriers.

“Really?” Isane asked, sounding slightly dubious. I nodded in confirmation.

“In terms of skill, Shirai’s the most intuitive out of all of us when it comes to using reiatsu. While I can match his control, he’s far better than me at sensing spiritual energy,” I admitted. “When it comes to theory though, Takeda has both of us beat. Which leaves me with the role of ‘reiatsu powerhouse.’” At Isane’s look, I added, “Yeah, I know. Utterly ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Hisana-san, your reiatsu reserves are hardly small,” she murmured. I waved her off.

“Oh, please. Just last week I almost broke a toe kicking that asshole Ichimaru in the shin,” I grumbled. “And that was _after_ I enhanced my foot with reiatsu.” I leaned my head against the tree, closing my eyes with a yawn. “Not to mention, I barely had enough reiatsu to last me through my shift yesterday. I’m pretty sure _Tonton_ had more spiritual energy than me by the time I finished.”

“Your pet pig, as far as I can tell, is not in the habit of skipping meals, going through several hours of intensive physical exercise a day, and getting an average of three to four hours of sleep a night,” Isane said sternly. I opened one eye to stare at her suspiciously.

“How do you know how much I sleep?” I demanded.

“Because we’re—” She hesitated. “Because you’re my friend, and I know you. And I know that you can function nearly perfectly well on five hours of sleep. So if you’ve been having trouble staying awake, it means that you’ve been getting the bare minimum of sleep lately.” She sent my slightly food-stained uniform a pointed glance.

“Ah.” I said sheepishly (that was what I got for falling asleep at noon and accidentally using my lunch as a pillow) before offering her a slight smile. “I didn’t realize I was being quite so transparent. Or maybe you’re just that observant. Hey, would you consider applying for the Fourth Division intern program next year? I know you said you wanted to focus on school right now, but we could really use someone like you.”

“D-Don’t change the subject,” Isane stammered, face a little red. “I know you have a lot of commitments, Hisana-san, but you need to start taking better care of yourse—”

“Oi, Shorty! What are you sitting outside for?” Shirai called out, cutting her off. “Did you forget that we were supposed to collaborate on this?”

“‘Shorty’?” Isane mouthed. My eye twitched before I forced myself to calm down. It was _Grumpy-face_ I was pissed at, I reminded myself. Shirai was just a moron who didn’t know any better.

“Long story,” I said through gritted teeth before turning back to Shirai. “What’s up?”

“Glasses over there seems to think that splitting Shakkaho into multiple fireballs is ‘stupid and unnecessary.’ Tell him he’s wrong,” Shirai whined, waving a bunch of papers in the air.

“It _is_ stupid and unnecessary, which you would know if you actually bothered to think for more than half a second,” Takeda said, looking supremely irritated.

“It’s multiple fireballs! How can you go wrong with multiple fireballs?!”

“When it means splitting the total power output of the spell, thereby reducing its effectiveness and weakening it to the point where each individual fireball would likely fizz out before ever reaching—”

“You guys are _both_ getting a fireball to the face if you don’t quit it,” I snapped, causing them to shut up. Offering Isane an apologetic look, I added, “Sorry to cut this short, but they’re right. We’re supposed to come up with our project ideas by Monday morning, so—”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I understand,” Isane said, shaking her head. “I get that you’re busy. Just…make sure to get some rest, please?”

“I’ll try my best to,” I promised. “Talk to you soon, okay? Seriously, let me know when you’re free and we’ll get lunch together or someth—shit!” A loud, banging noise cut me off and I cursed as I saw that the papers Shirai was holding had spontaneously combusted (absently, I wondered why water-based kido spells were so rare. Given how batshit insane most shinigami were, wouldn’t it have made sense to invest in creating a couple more fire-preventative spells?). “What is wrong with you two? Honestly, I take my eyes off you for two seconds, and—”

“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!” Shirai cried out, dropping the papers with a wince.

“Ah, yes. Do drop the burning papers on the hardwood floors, I’m sure that’ll put the fire out sooner,” Takeda commented.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pissed me off!” Shirai retorted, whirling around to face him. I took the opportunity to quietly shove Isane back out the door; I’d need someone to sneak out library books for me just in case we got banned again.

“Forgive me for assuming that you had _some_ semblance of self-control. I was under the impression that you were studying to be a shinigami, not an arsonist,” Takeda continued sarcastically.

“Guys? Not helping,” I said through gritted teeth, frantically trying to stomp out the flames.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Takeda apologized. “Would it help if I threw Shrimp onto the flames? I hear the human body is composed of roughly sixty percent water, so it couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ve got a better idea, why don’t I do the world a favor and throw _you_ on instead, you—”

Needless to say, we got banned from the library for a month.

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura! Get your damned pig out of here!” Iemura snarled, stomping towards me. “For god’s sake, this is a _hospital.”_

“Aw, Tonton didn’t mean any harm. Did you, sweetheart?” I cooed, scooping her up in my arms. “You just missed mommy and wanted to visit, right? Clever girl, finding your way here all by yourself. Mommy’s so proud of you.”

Iemura stared at me, unimpressed.

“Control your pet, Yukimura. Otherwise, I just might find myself in the mood for some barbecue.”

“Do that, and I’ll make sure you land on the coals right after her,” I retorted, carefully covering Tonton’s ears as I leveled a scowl at him. “What’s wrong with you? You’ll give her nightmares.”

Iemura rolled his eyes. I resisted the urge to tell him he looked like a dead fish when he did that. “Whatever. Just keep it out of my way and we won’t have a problem.”

“Tonton isn’t an _it,_ senpai. But fine, if she bothers you so much, I’ll tell Kukaku to keep better track of her,” I said graciously.

“That’s all I ask,” Iemura replied. “Now, you’re on rotation with the 6th Relief Team this week, so you’ll be reporting to Tsukuda-san—”

“The 6th? Can’t I do the 12th or something instead?” I asked, suddenly uncomfortable. Iemura paused, looking at me dubiously.

“The 12th,” he repeated flatly. “You want to do poison treatment?”

“Never hurts to brush up on how to whip up an antidote,” I said, forcing myself to sound cheerful. “Especially when you consider the looks Kurotsuchi-san has been giving me lately. Besides, the 6th Relief Team specializes in general medicine, and I’ve been doing a lot of that recently. Might be time for a change.”

“Last week you insisted on joining the 1st Relief Team because you were ‘rusty on emergency medicine’ and the week before that, you insisted on joining the R&D team because you, and I quote, ‘wanted to learn more about the mechanics behind creating prosthetics,’ an area you’ve never expressed any interest in before,” Iemura said, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s going on?”

“Alright, alright, fine,” I said, frustrated. “I guess I might feel a little awkward being around Ayame right now.”

“Ah,” Iemura said, a note of realization in his voice. “Someone finally clued you in, hmm?” He glanced at me. “Although, resorting to avoidance? I admit, I thought you were more mature than that.”

“I’m not _avoiding_ her. I’m just giving her some space,” I defended myself. “I mean, what would you do in my position?”

“To start with, handle the problem myself instead of bothering other people about it,” Iemura said, reaching for the door. I grabbed his arm, glaring at him.

“Oh no you don’t. You brought the subject up, you’re going to damn well talk to me,” I said sternly.

“Well, I don’t know. What did you do when faced with this situation before?” Iemura asked, flustered. I thought for a moment.

“Mainly pretended I didn’t know about it,” I said finally. In my experience, while people could—and did—get angry at you for rejecting their feelings, they couldn’t get angry at you for being too dumb to notice them in the first place. Hence, it was better for everyone if I just feigned obliviousness until they gave up. “Still, that works best when you’re _not_ working together several hours a day. Which is why it might be for the best if I spend some time around the 12th Relief Team for the next week.” I glanced at him meaningfully.

“Oh, very well,” Iemura grumbled. “Still, I hope you know that this isn’t a sustainable solution. She’s going to catch on to what you’re doing _eventually.”_

“I don’t need it to be,” I replied. “It’s just until she moves on or meets someone new, whichever comes first. I’ve got high hopes for this new girl she’s been seeing a few times; they’re really cute together.”

“Dare I hope you learned this in a way that _doesn’t_ involve stalking them on their dates?” Iemura asked dryly. I smacked him on the arm.

“Of course I didn’t! How could you ever think that?” I demanded, before relenting as he raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay fine, I _may_ have let slip to Ran that a friend of mine was single and looking for a relationship, and she _may_ have suggested a friend of her own who might be receptive, and it’s _possible_ she’s been keeping me updated on how things are going. But I haven’t been _stalking_ them.”

“And here I thought you might have been putting your nose in other peoples’ business again. Glad to see you’ve proved me wrong,” Iemura said sarcastically.

“I prefer the term ‘looking out for my friends,’” I said cheerfully, stroking Tonton behind the ears. “Hey, have you seen Rukia or Renji around anywhere? They were supposed to meet me here after they finished class.”

“I haven’t seen them,” Iemura replied. “How are they settling in at the Academy? Set any buildings on fire yet?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said, making a face at him.

“It’s an honest question. Although if they take after you at all, I suppose it’s only a matter of time,” Iemura said, smirking a little.

“Okay, for your information I never set a building on fire. Some clothes, yes, but not a _building,”_ I protested.

“While the owner was still in them, if I recall correctly,” Iemura said mildly.

“Which, for the last time, was an _accident,”_ I huffed. An accident in the sense that no one could prove otherwise, sure, but that was the story and I was sticking with it. “As for your other question, they’re settling in fine. Granted, Renji’s kido could still use a little work, but…” I trailed off.

“Ah. He blow himself up again?” Iemura asked in understanding.

“For the fifth time,” I confirmed with a sigh. “Honestly, it’s a miracle the boy has any eyebrows left.”

“And your sister? How is she doing?” Iemura asked.

“Well, she’s taken a real shine to kido,” I said, smiling. "And she seems to be improving rapidly in zanjutsu, if only because she refuses to let Renji surpass her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her working so hard.”

“It’s good to hear that they’re doing well in their classes,” Iemura commented. “How are they getting along with their classmates? Given their circumstances, it can be difficult fitting in.”

“Because they’re so young?” I asked, biting my lip. “I know, I was worried about that too. Still, I hope that age won’t be too much of a factor. I mean, look at Yachiru-chan. And I heard that one of the officers in Squad Eight is around Rukia’s age, so young shinigami definitely _exist.”_

“That wasn’t what I was talking about,” Iemura interrupted. At my quizzical look, he continued, “Think for a moment about when Kuchiki-fukutaicho began courting you. There were new expectations placed on you, correct? You weren’t just some random nobody from the Rukongai trying to prove that they belonged anymore. People expected more from you because _Kuchiki-fukutaicho_ looked at you and saw something special.” Iemura hesitated. “The same goes for your sister. Because of who she is, who _you_ are, there were expectations placed on her before she ever set foot in the Seireitei. Only unlike you, she’s a child who’s never truly had to prove herself before. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

I paused for a moment.

“So you’re saying,” I began slowly. “That because I’m dating Byakuya, as my sister, Rukia is also expected to live up to the Kuchiki standards?” I chewed on my bottom lip worriedly. “I mean, I had considered that, but I figured that most of the pressure would be on me, you know?”

Iemura stared at me.

“When you said you’ve acted purposefully oblivious in the past to avoid problems, do you think it became a natural reflex?” He asked. I smacked him on the arm.

“No need to be mean, senpai,” I scolded, heading for the door. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be too concerned. After all, Rukia’s only indirectly involved, and even if some members of Byakuya’s family want her to act a certain way, I know my sister. She’s not the type to care what they think.”

“Well, I agree with you on that much. It’s not their standards she’s setting for herself,” Iemura murmured from behind me. “And that’s what worries me.”  

 

* * *

 

“You know, you really don’t have to numb my arm every time, Yukimura-san,” Ukitake said, his tone slightly amused as I pulled the IV out of his forearm. “I can take a little pain.”

“It’s no problem. It’s practically instinct by now, anyway,” I shrugged, heating up the used needle to sterilize it before dipping it in alcohol.  “I mean, it’s not like it costs me much to reduce the discomfort of my patients, so might as well do it, right?”

“Well in any case, I thank you for your consideration,” Ukitake replied with a smile. I glanced at him, one side of my lips quirking up.

“Believe me, it’s not as altruistic as it sounds. You’d be surprised at how many shinigami get uneasy about needles; I figure it’s just common sense to get in the habit of not doing anything that could startle a bunch of twitchy, paranoid soldiers with swords,” I said honestly, causing Ukitake to let out a slightly startled laugh. 

“Present company excluded, I hope?” He asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Given that you don’t have Sougyo no Kotowari on you right now, sure,” I agreed, grinning at him.

“Mm, I’m glad that the only thing differentiating me from a ‘twitchy, paranoid soldier with a sword’ is the fact that I’m currently unarmed,” he mused.

“Hey, you’re the one who said it,” I laughed, patting him on the arm before glancing down at my clipboard. “Now, we’ll see you again Tuesday for your next transfusion?”

“I believe so,” he replied, before pausing slightly. “Urahara-taicho spoke to me last week.”

“Oh?” I asked, feigning nonchalance as I continued to look down at my clipboard. “Ah yes, I remember he did say something about that.”

“Yukimura-san.” Ukitake’s voice was soft. “He said that you were close to finding a drug that would…that would hopefully allow me to live normally.”

“Well, it wasn’t really _me,_ per se. Akon-kun did most of the work—seriously, have you met that kid? He’s a genius and if it weren’t for the fact that he was born to be a scientist, I’d totally consider stealing him away,” I rambled on agitatedly, squeezing my clipboard to my chest. “And we’re not _that_ close; sure, progress has sped up considerably ever since Urahara-taicho approved our use of reigai, but we still have to figure out dosages and side effects and—”

“I see what you mean, Juu-chan. She _does_ babble when she’s nervous,” a different voice said, deep and tinged with humor.

“Hey, I do not! Okay, maybe I do, but it’s rude to point that out!” I said automatically before registering exactly who I was saying it to.

“Aww, don’t be shy; in fact, I think it’s rather cute,” Kyouraku Shunsui said cheerily, as I dragged my eyes away from…well, a whole lot of pink. “And hey, it’s understandable that you’d be nervous about this subject. Treating a captain? That’s a big deal.”

“Well, yes,” I said slowly, frowning a little. “I mean, it’s a big deal to Ukitake-taicho and so it’s a big deal to me.”

“So when can we expect a trial date for this mystery treatment? A general estimate is fine,” Kyouraku said, leaning forward slightly. “Juu-chan mentioned that you were approaching the final stages, so…a couple months? By the end of this year, surely.”

“Ideally, yes,” I said, frown deepening. “But realistically, I’d say another year at the very least, if not longer. We’ve managed to pinpoint a protein that, to the best of our knowledge, only appears to be exhibited on the surface of certain mammalian immune cells. Now that we have that, it’s only a simple matter of isolating the protein and using an appropriate animal to produce antibodies against it.”

“So what’s the problem?” Kyouraku asked, looking at me intently. I was silent for a moment.

“The problem…the problem is that while I can test this treatment on reigai and souls to gain a sense of the potential risks and side effects, there is no way to predict how this will affect his health in the long run, especially given that there’s currently no one else with his disorder that I can try it on first,” I said finally. “What I’m proposing to do…it’s a delicate balancing act between reducing the harmful effects of an overactive immune system and compromising his immune system entirely, leaving him more susceptible to other kinds of illness. Any mistakes I make? He’ll be the one to pay for them, and that’s…that’s not acceptable.” I tilted my chin up, lips thinning. “So yes, I am willing to push back his treatment for a few years if it means that I can make the process as safe as possible for him, especially given that he’s in no immediate danger at the moment. Ukitake-taicho’s a friend and he looks out for several people that I care about. I owe him that much, at the very least.”

 “Mm.” Kyouraku’s expression was unreadable, but I thought I saw a glimmer of something like approval pass through his eyes. “I’m glad to see that Juu-chan’s in good hands, then.” He shifted his weight, leaning back, and I felt my shoulders relax in response. I hadn’t even noticed I’d tensed up. “Now—”

“Shunsui, please,” Ukitake interrupted, voice faintly exasperated. “It’s almost six, we don’t want to keep her from dinner.”

“Of course, how rude of me,” Kyouraku said cheerfully, smiling at me. “Hisana-chan, would you like to join us to eat? My treat.”

“Um.” I hesitated for a second. “I’m, uh, actually supposed to meet Byakuya—”

“Not a problem,” he dismissed, casually summoning a hell-butterfly with a flick of his wrist and sending it flying off in the direction of the Sixth Division. “I’ll tell him where to meet us. How are things going between you two, anyway? I see you survived Masami, congratulations.”

“Shunsui!” Ukitake scolded, slapping him on the shoulder. “Honestly, you’d think after all these centuries, you’d learn some tact—”

“Oh come on, it’s not like she’s around to hear, is she? Now Hisana-chan, I hope Byakuya’s treating you right?”

“Honestly, he treats me _too_ well, if anything,” I laughed. “I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.”

 “I’m happy to hear that,” Kyouraku said warmly. “You know, Juushiro and I were kind of like uncles to him when he was growing up.”

“Really?” I asked curiously.

“Yep. Hot-tempered little tyke, he was,” Kyouraku chuckled. “Oh, the _stories_ we could tell you, Hisana-chan”

“Please do,” I blurted out, then hastily back-tracked. “Uh, if you want to, I mean.”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Kyouraku said brightly, his face lighting up at my answer. “We’ll talk at dinner, okay?”

“Byakuya’s going to kill you, I hope you know that Shunsui,” Ukitake said dryly. Kyouraku waved him off.

“Please, I’ve been preparing over a _century_ for this moment, Juu-chan. That kid can deal with it.”

 

* * *

 

“ _No way,”_ I gaped at Kyouraku in disbelief, chopsticks halfway to my mouth. “Are you serious? So he just…spent half an hour following some random cat around, yelling at it and challenging it to a race?”

“Uh huh,” Kyouraku said, hiding his grin behind a cup of sake. “Didn’t figure out he’d gotten the _wrong_ black cat until Yoruichi showed up and asked him what he was doing.”

“Kyouraku-taicho, I’m sure Hisana isn’t interested in hearing about—” Byakuya began, voice slightly strained.

“No, no, this is gold. Please go on,” I interrupted, leaning forward eagerly. “Man, I can’t believe he couldn’t recognize her cat form. He’s so good at it now.”

“And now you know why,” Kyouraku chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Hardly the kind of incident a person would want to repeat, eh Byakuya?”

“Quite,” Byakuya replied tightly. “Now if you’re done laughing at my expense—”

“And then there was the time Byakuya spent a month rebelling against all forms of clothing when he was a toddler,” Kyouraku continued, ignoring him.

“Ah, I remember that,” Ukitake reminisced fondly. “He did it to protest Masami taking away his Admiral Seaweed costume, right?”

“Mhm. Drove the servants crazy, running around trying to catch him and when they finally did, he’d be out of clothes again in under a minute. I remember Sojun thought it was hilarious,” Kyouraku said, a nostalgic light in his eyes. “Used to tell Yoruichi that she’d better watch out, because with how fast Byakuya was, he’d catch up to her in no time.”

“Shunsui,” Ukitake reprimanded softly as Byakuya stilled. I glanced at Byakuya out of the corner of my eye in concern, and…yep, time to change the subject.

“Well, what about you two?” I spoke up, slipping a bright smile on my face. “I’m sure you’ve had some very interesting experiences yourself. Any valuable life lessons you’d be willing to pass on?”

“Too many to count, if I’m being honest,” Ukitake said wryly, easily picking up the conversation. “Growing up with this idiot, it was kind of unavoidable.”

“Oh, come on, Ukitake-taicho. I’m sure it couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” I said grinning, ignoring Kyouraku’s offended ‘Oi!’. “Do share?”

“How about an exchange?” He offered, humor glinting in his eyes. “You tell us an embarrassing story from your childhood and we’ll repay the favor?”

“Deal,” I said after only a moment’s hesitation. Eh, both Kyouraku and Ukitake had been alive for centuries; they’d probably seen it all at this point. Besides, given how many of Byakuya’s embarrassing childhood memories I’d learned today, it only seemed fair to offer up one of my own.

“Okay,” I began. “One day, about…two years after I arrived in the Rukongai? I know it was fairly early on, since I remember being pretty short then—”

“Hisana, if _that’s_ your criteria, I don’t think that narrows down the timeframe much—”

“Byakuya, darling, please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking,” I said sweetly, with an undertone of _we’ll discuss this later once we’re alone._ Wisely, he shut up. “Anyway, I was out in the woods collecting medicinal herbs—don’t look at me like that, Byakuya, I survived, didn’t I?—and the next thing I know, I heard this loud, crashing sound coming from somewhere near me. Since this was before I could reliably sense reiatsu, and since crashing sounds normally meant hollows, I dove for the nearest, reasonably sized tree and was forty feet up before I bothered to look down. Turns out, it wasn’t a hollow, it was a woodpecker that had gotten a little too enthusiastic, and the top of the tree had fallen down, causing the crashing noise. Not my proudest moment, I can tell you that—which is why you should always double check to see what you’re running from before climbing up trees,” I finished, nodding sagely.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ukitake said faux-seriously. “But at least no harm came out of that mistake. Unfortunately, I can’t claim as much for most of ours. You know that rule about alcohol being forbidden on missions, both here and in the living world?”

“The one that the entire Eleventh Division ignores? Sure,” I answered.

“Yes, well, you’re looking at the two individuals responsible for Genryuusai-sensei implementing that rule,” Ukitake sighed.

“Hey, it was an honest mistake! How were we supposed to know better?” Shunsui protested.

“See, during one of our first missions to the living world, we were given gigai so that we could better observe and study how humans lived. Now, it just so happened that a festival was going on and Shunsui was able to procure a few bottles of sake. It seemed like a harmless idea to indulge in a bit of alcohol at the time; after all, material food was only supposed to affect material bodies, right? We figured that if a hollow showed up, we could just exit our gigai and we’d be sober again.” Ukitake paused. “We found out the hard way that this was not the case.”

“Yama-jii had to rescue us,” Shunsui added, wincing. “A piece of advice—try not to do anything that could result in a lecture from Yama-jii. He may be old, but that man can _talk._ Ugh, back when he still gave speeches at the Academy, he would go on for _hours.”_

“I’m surprised you know that, given how often you skipped class,” Ukitake said, with a hint of old exasperation.

“Why bother going, when I knew I had you there to take notes for me?” Kyouraku said cheekily, slinging an arm around the other captain’s shoulders. “Juu-chan was always a very good student,” he added, winking at me. “One of the reasons I decided to become friends with him.”

“The other reason being that he wanted a partner to pick up girls with,” Ukitake said dryly.

“First time we met outside of class, Juu-chan wasn’t feeling too well so I told the girls standing nearby that he’d fainted because he was so overwhelmed by their beauty. Got us both dates for that night,” Kyouraku agreed, looking at Ukitake with a teasing glint in his eyes. “And so began a beautiful friendship.”

“That worked?” Byakuya asked, faintly disbelieving.

“Eh,” Kyouraku shrugged. “We make a good team. As do you two.” One side of his mouth curved up into a crooked smile as he raised his cup up in a toast. “To lifelong partnerships and valuable life lessons. May we continue to make embarrassing mistakes so we can look back at them and laugh for many, many years to come.”

 

* * *

 

 “Are you still working on that history report, imouto?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been working on that all night.”

“Just a moment, nee-chan,” Rukia muttered distractedly, flipping through her textbook. “I gotta finish this by this week.”

“Still, a break can’t hurt,” I cajoled, waving a muffin in front of her nose. “How about some breakfast, hmm? Chiyo just sent these over, fresh from the oven. That report will still be waiting for you in an hour, so why don’t you get some food in you first? Sugar is good for the brain.”

“Look, just because _you_ can bullshit a five page report in two hours and still get an A doesn’t mean we all can,” she snapped, glaring at me. “I already didn’t do well on last month’s report, so I really need to make up my grade with this one, okay? I’ll eat when I’m done.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Well if it’s giving you so much trouble, maybe I can help. That way, you can get done sooner.”

“No thanks, I can handle this by myself,” she muttered, slamming her book shut. “I’m going to go work in the library. Where there _aren’t_ any distractions.”

I stared after her as she walked off in a huff, throat feeling oddly tight.

 “You alright there?” A voice asked from behind me, before making a noise of comprehension. “Ah. Parenting troubles again?”

“I don’t understand…I thought she _liked_ muffins,” I said in a small voice, staring down at the muffin in my hands.

“I don’t think it’s the muffin that’s the problem, Yukimura,” Kaien replied softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Then what? It’s me she has a problem with?” My laugh sounded a little choked and I angrily pressed two glowing fingers to my neck, soothing the muscles there. Goddamn sore throat. Maybe I was coming down with something.

“She’s going through a lot of changes right now. Just give her some space, she’ll come around eventually,” Kaien said gently.

“I just wish I knew what I was doing _wrong,”_ I said, frustrated. With all the psychology books I’d read in med school and undergrad, you’d think I’d be better at this. “It feels like every time I reach out nowadays, she gets upset. Like yesterday, when she got all mad at me for making her a _bento box,_ of all things. Or the day before that, when she mentioned that she wanted to see what the different squads were like, and I offered to give her a tour of a few. It’s like nothing I do makes her happy and I don’t understand _why.”_

“She’s a teenager; irrationality is part of the package,” Kaien said with a slight shrug. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? Personally I think you’re a great sister, and I’m not just saying that because Byakuya would kill me if I ever upset you.” He paused. “Has anyone told you that your boyfriend is scary where you’re concerned?”

“Byakuya? Nah, he’s a giant fluffball,” I dismissed. “Don’t tell him I said this, but your shikai is way scarier.”

“Oh?” Kaien asked, amused. I nodded, smiling wryly.

“Take it from someone with firsthand knowledge,” I said honestly. “Blades are…easier to fight against than the ocean.” I paused, staring off in the direction Rukia had gone in. “Would you mind checking in on Rukia later? I don’t think it’d be the best idea for me to do it.”

“Why? You still banned from the library?” Kaien teased.

“Hey! That punishment was rescinded, I’ll have you know,” I grumbled in mock offense. “I had _four_ eyewitness testimonies all saying that it wasn’t my fault.”

“I’m surprised those kids of yours haven’t gotten banned from any buildings yet, given what they’ve been up to,” Kaien chuckled. “What was it they did last week? Set a bunch of black cats loose in the Academy on the day Yoruichi was scheduled to visit?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded proudly. “Man, you should’ve seen the look on Matsushita-sensei’s face after he spent all morning sucking up to this one cat only to see Yoruichi walk right past him on her way to lunch.”

“You know, with you as her guardian and me as a lieutenant, I feel like we should at least _pretend_ to disapprove,” Kaien mused, an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, I do. Rukia had black cat hair all over her uniform and Renji was absolutely covered in scratches. Sloppy, the both of them,” I said in a faux-lofty tone. “I’d give that prank a seven out of ten at best. First rule of breaking the rules is to not get caught…or at least, make it look like an accident.”

“Mm, yes. As I recall, your file is full of them,” Kaien said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m very accident-prone. You know me, always clumsy,” I said innocently.

“Guess I’d better take this then,” Kaien grinned, snatching my muffin out of my hands and taking a bite out of it before I could do anything but yelp indignantly. “Wouldn’t want you to drop this before it could be eaten. It’d be a waste of a perfectly good muffin.”

“You’re an asshole,” I glared half-heartedly at him, trying and failing to keep my lips from twitching.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “Here, I’ll make it up to you. How about you bring Renji and Rukia over to our place this weekend? I have a feeling some fireworks will cheer both of you up, and Kukaku adores the kids.” He paused. “Well, for a given measure of ‘adore’, anyway.”

“Fine. But I’m only accepting because I want to see Kukaku, not you,” I said haughtily. Kaien grinned, reaching over to tweak my nose.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else. Seven on Saturday okay with you?”

“I’ll be there,” I promised, before hesitating. “And Shiba-fukutaicho? Thank you.”

Something in Kaien’s expression softened and he reached out to ruffle my hair.

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Kyouraku and Ukitake are #relationship goals. I don’t care if you interpret them as platonic or romantic or whatever, their friendship is one of my favorite things in Bleach. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait between updates this time! Between a killer’s writer’s block and applying to med school, writing fanfic fell rather low on my list of priorities. I know a lot of you were worried about me abandoning this story, and while I can’t promise to finish it or to provide regular updates, I do promise that should I ever decide to discontinue WTL, I’ll let you know. It may be 6 months or a year or even longer between updates but as long as it doesn’t say ‘discontinued’, rest assured that I’m still working on it.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and for your continued support over the past six months. It hasn’t been easy getting back into the groove of writing and this chapter was especially challenging for me, but I hope it didn’t disappoint.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned out about 4k longer than expected...

Rukia Interlude

At the sight of Oni-sensei #2 standing in the kitchen, a perplexed frown on his face as he gingerly poked at Kaori’s (in)famous stew with a pair of chopsticks, Rukia couldn’t help but sigh.

“It’s food,” she said grumpily, moving past him to reach into the cupboards for a bag of crackers.

“I beg your pardon?” Kuchiki Eiji (aka the Oni-sensei clone) asked, blinking.

“Food. Stuff that you eat,” Rukia clarified. “You know, what you put into your body for sustenance.”

“I was aware of that, thank you,” he sniffed, offended. “I was merely, ah, testing it.”

“Oh yeah?” Rukia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. I’ll have you know that gently prodding at ones meal prior to consuming it is standard procedure as it frees the aroma from the food, thus fully preparing each taste bud for the delicacy it is about to experience,” Eiji said, an expression of utmost seriousness on his face.

Rukia paused for a second.

“Does that ever actually work on anyone?” She asked disbelievingly.

“You’d be surprised,” Eiji smirked, leaning against the counter. “But then, I’m a Kuchiki. Most people aren’t going to question my etiquette knowledge, no matter what common sense tells them.”

Rukia let out a startled laugh. A Kuchiki with a sense of humor, who knew? “Well to be fair, most of that stuff does seem kinda ridiculous, so it’s gotta be pretty hard telling what’s real and what’s not. I mean, apparently there’s like a bajillion rules just for drinking _tea.”_ She threw her hands up. “It’s literally just _boiling leaves in water._ It should be simple but _no,_ there has to be a special way to prepare the teapot and heat it up in the hearth and pour the water and things are different depending on the season and—”

“Just had a lesson in tea ceremony rituals with my cousin, I presume?” Eiji asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Most boring hour of my life,” Rukia confirmed, relaxing despite herself. For a stuck-up noble, Kuchiki Eiji was surprisingly…okay. “Luckily, Renji fell asleep halfway through and I was able to escape when Oni-sensei started lecturing him about rudeness.” She huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t know how Hisana stands it. All that stuff about water temperature and proper hand posture and she didn’t look bored at _all.”_

“Yes, well, with Hisana-san I suspect she’s less interested in the subject matter and more in the person doing the speaking,” he answered, a smile tugging at his lips. Rukia made a face.

“Bleh. Don’t remind me,” she muttered. As far as she was concerned, watching her big sister and Oni-sensei make lovey-dovey faces at each other ranked just below dusting a dirt floor on her to-do list.

“You think they’re bad? At least you’re not stuck in a squad where your lieutenant and third seat are dating. It’s a good thing Ukitake-taicho’s been feeling better lately because otherwise it’d be near impossible to hand in a mission report, given how many private ‘division management meetings’ Shiba-fukutaicho and Fukui-san have had.” He shuddered. “Believe me, there are some things about your superior officers you don’t want to know, and over the course of the past few months I’ve discovered over a dozen of them.”

“Ew,” Rukia said, before a thought struck her. “Anything I can use as blackmail?”

“Unfortunately, Shiba-fukutaicho has next to no shame,” Eiji said dryly.

“Too bad. Could’ve been useful,” Rukia sighed, before glancing at him. “How long have you been working at the 13th, anyway?”

“Nearly ten years now. Started off at the 6th where I spent five years before deciding I needed a change of pace,” Eiji answered, before looking at her thoughtfully. “You know, I never got a chance to ask you this. Why do you want to become a shinigami, anyway?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Rukia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I suppose most people do. But they all have a reason for choosing this path—money, power, fame, excitement. I confess, I find myself curious about yours,” Eiji replied, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Rukia shrugged. “I guess I just liked the thought of being a protector,” she answered. “That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s very admirable of you,” Eiji commented. Rukia shrugged again.

“Eh. It’s not a big deal. I mean, Hisana and I are only ten years apart and yet she’s been taking care of me all my life. I just thought it’d be nice to be able to take care of her back,” she replied casually, pouring herself a glass of water. “I don’t wanna be some weak little kid she has to worry about all the time. Nah, I’m gonna get strong enough to protect myself. Maybe protect others, too.”

“A commendable goal,” Eiji said. “I can see why Hisana is so proud of you.”

Rukia flushed, looking away awkwardly. Thankfully, before she was expected to say anything else, a commotion from the next room caught their attention.

“Ah, crap,” Rukia muttered, scowling as she sensed Oni-sensei coming their way.

“Not a big fan of Byakuya, I take it?” Eiji asked, eyebrows raised.

“He’s stuffy,” Rukia grumbled. “All about manners and rules and the proper way to use chopsticks. Except when it comes to nee-chan, of course. _Then_ eating stuff with your hands becomes ‘charming.’”

Talk about double standards. He never had a problem with _Hisana_ feeding him with her bare hands but the one time Rukia tried shoving a giant biscuit at him to make him shut up, he got all huffy about it. “He’s also super critical and a perfectionist and he spends more time on his hair than a prostitute does and—” She stopped herself as she realized just who she was talking to. “Uh, but all in all I guess he’s pretty okay. I mean he’s a decent teacher and he’s probably a pretty good shinigami if he’s a lieutenant even though I’ve never actually seen him fight and—”

“Alright, alright, I think I get the picture,” Eiji laughed, raising his hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s understandable that you’d take a while to warm up to him. He’s not the easiest person to get along with on the best of days and he has been taking up a lot of Hisana’s time lately, hasn’t he?”

“If you’re implying that I’m jealous of him, I’m not,” Rukia said, narrowing her eyes. At Eiji’s pointed look, she huffed before relenting. “Okay, maybe a little—just a little!—in the beginning. But he makes her happy and I’d take a gross lovesick Hisana over a moping Hisana any day. It’s just…he’s just…” She bit her lip.

“He’s what? Antisocial? Demanding? Proud?” Eiji prodded.

“He’s like all the others, alright?” Rukia burst out finally.

“The…others?” Eiji asked, a confused look on his face.

“Like everyone else in this stupid district,” Rukia said bitterly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nee-chan is pretty popular around here. And like, we always get people dropping by with gifts and stuff and they’re always super nice to me, but it’s only because of nee-chan, you know? Like, there was this one shopkeeper who kept picking on Renji before we became friends, hates kids and is just really mean in general, but he always gave me free candy whenever I passed by. And the lady who mends clothes down the street, she sewed a rabbit design into my pajamas once—I didn’t even ask her to, I just mentioned that rabbits were my favorite animals. I always just thought she was a nice person until I saw her whacking this kid with a broom just ‘cause she caught him looking at the clothes she was selling and thought he was gonna steal something. And I realized the only reason they’re nice to me is ‘cause I’m Hisana’s sister and they wanna suck up to her,” Rukia said in a rush, feeling slightly sick. “And I hate how…how _fake_ it all is, the way they do stuff for me just ‘cause they think it’ll get them in nee-chan’s good books, or because they owe her something and want to repay her through me—”

“And that’s why you’re so ambivalent towards my cousin, isn’t it? You think he’s just using you to repay Hisana for helping him,” Eiji said with dawning realization.

“Isn’t he?” Rukia asked, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “He only took me and Renji on as students ‘cause nee-chan asked him to. Otherwise, he never would’ve given us a second glance.” She paused for a second before looking down at her feet. “You probably think I sound ungrateful. I get all these favors for free and I’m _complaining_ about them.”

“Not at all. You want to earn something on your own merits. What’s shameful about that?” Eiji said gently.

“I guess.” Rukia was quiet for a moment. “It didn’t bother me so much in the beginning, you know. I guess I was just too excited to get training from a real shinigami to question it much.” She glanced up at him. “Oni-sensei’s not such a bad teacher, you know? I just wish he’d chosen me as his student because…because he thought I had potential, or something.”

“For what it’s worth, while Byakuya is the type to fully dedicate himself to any promise he makes, he never would have encouraged you and Renji to become shinigami had he not thought you two had potential,” Eiji said quietly. “I know my cousin. You are more than a favor to him, Rukia.”

“You’re just saying that,” Rukia scoffed, looking away.  

“No, I’m not. Let me put it this way.” He hesitated for a long moment. “When I was in that bastard Akiyama’s…care, your sister did everything in her power to keep me and my teammates alive. Looking back, I realize that a large part of why she pushed herself so hard to help me was due to our shared connection to Byakuya. She felt an added sense of duty when it came to my wellbeing…but Rukia, our relationship isn’t built upon that. She fulfilled any obligation to Byakuya when she alerted Shiba-fukutaicho to my situation. Anything past that? She did for me,” Eiji said seriously.

“Now, Byakuya took you on as a student initially out of a sense of debt to Hisana, that much is true. But wanting you as his sister? Going out of the way to prepare you as much as possible for entering the Seireitei? Sharing his drawings with you? You think he would do all that for someone he didn’t even _like?”_ He paused. “If you’re still not convinced, I can tell you that as the Sixth Division lieutenant, Byakuya does his fair share of overseeing trainings and making sure his soldiers are in top-shape. And yet, I have _never_ seen him take as much joy in that as he does in ordering you and that red-haired friend of yours around the lake another twenty times. Thus, I think it’s safe to say that he’s taken your training far beyond what could nominally be considered ‘duty.’” Rukia giggled, pressing one hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face.

“Okay, I believe you,” she said, smiling. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start going easy on him, though. Someone needs to make sure his ego doesn’t inflate to the point where he starts floating away, and nee-chan’s way too nice for that.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eiji laughed.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, forget weight training,” Renji groaned, collapsing onto the ground. “These textbooks are more than enough.”

“Tell me about it,” Rukia agreed, whipping out her water bottle and upending half of it on herself. “Ugh, who came up with the idea of requiring three _different_ textbooks for history?”

“Probably that Matsushita bastard,” Renji grunted. “I can see why Hisana set him on fire.”

“As I keep telling you two, that was an accident,” Hisana protested from behind them, causing Rukia and Renji to send her twin disbelieving looks.

“Nee-chan, there are accidents and there are _accidents._ I think we’re old enough to tell the difference by now,” Rukia said dryly.

“I dunno why you keep denyin’ it. _I_ think it’s awesome,” Renji added enthusiastically.

“Because even if someone hypothetically broke about a dozen rules for a very worthy cause, doesn’t mean that they should flaunt the fact that they did so,” Hisana replied absentmindedly. “That’s just asking to get punished. Or in this hypothetical scenario, punished more harshly. But enough about that. How was your first week at school? I want to hear all about it.”

“It’s been fantastic,” Rukia replied immediately, ignoring the sharp look Renji sent her way. “Everything’s been great—I mean sure, Matsushita-sensei’s a bit of a jerk, but most of the other teachers are nice. And there’s so much to _learn,_ it’s awesome.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hisana said warmly, visibly relaxing. “I know the Seireitei can be a bit overwhelming at times, the people more than anything else, but…well, I guess it was silly of me to be so worried, wasn’t it? You’re keeping up with your schoolwork okay?”

“Nee-chan, it’s only been a week. We’re _fine,”_ Rukia said, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, alright, I get it.  Anyway, I’ve got to run, I’m late for my shift, but we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” She said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Rukia’s forehead while absently straightening Renji’s uniform with one hand. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Rukia and Renji chorused in unison. The minute Hisana was out of earshot, Renji rounded on her.

“Why didn’t you tell her about those teachers singling you out?” He demanded.

“Singling me out?” She asked, glancing at him. “Oh, you mean the way they call on me a little more often than the other students? That’s nothing.”

“Oh, really? You don’t think it’s just a little unfair that they always seem to expect you to have the answer?” Renji asked sarcastically. Rukia’s lips thinned.

“They just expect more from me, that’s all,” she retorted. “When you think about it, it’s really a compliment. Besides, if Hisana can do it—”

“Who cares what Hisana does? Hisana isn’t even in class half the time!” Renji said irritably.

“Yes, because she’s off saving lives and going on real missions and fighting hollows instead!” Rukia snapped. At the sight of Renji’s expression, she took a deep breath before forcibly calming herself down. “It’s really not a big deal, alright? If anything, this is a good thing. At least it motivates me to study before class.”

“Even so. It’s not fair,” Renji muttered, folding his arms across his chest. “I just wish we could get them back somehow.”

“Who says that we aren’t?” Rukia asked mischievously. Renji glanced at her, an answering grin beginning to form on his face.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” He asked eagerly.

“Probably not, considering that my ideas are always vastly superior to yours,” Rukia sniffed, doing her best impression of Oni-sensei. “Peasant.”

Renji let out an ugly snort, shoving one hand over his mouth. Staving off giggles herself, Rukia continued pompously, “I’ll have you know that I’m descended from a long line of pranksters, dating back to the dinosaur era…why, my great-grandfather is _literally_ a fossil—”

“Arrogant fool, you seem to have mistaken lineage for talent,” Renji interrupted, puffing his chest out. He looked remarkably like an overinflated peacock in that moment, and Rukia could feel herself shaking as she tried to keep her laughter in. “Like you could match my pranking genius, impudent brat. Why, you’re a hundred years too early to even think about challenging me—”

“Please. Let me tell you about the difference between you and me. It is like a…shoot, what was that story he told us once? Something about a monkey and a moon? Ah, never mind—it is like a tiny mushroom trying to catch up to a bigger mushroom. No matter how much the tiny mushroom…shrooms, it simply cannot—” That was all she managed to get out before she made the mistake of catching Renji’s eye and promptly lost it.

“Oh my god,” she gasped out, clutching her ribs. “Your face…oh my god, you looked _just like him.”_

“ _Me?_ Holy shit, I thought I was gonna bust a gut when you started going on about mushrooms,” Renji wheezed.

“Yeah, I guess I was still thinking about today’s lunch,” Rukia admitted.

“Tell me about it. Mushrooms are _not_ meant to be that stringy,” Renji grimaced. “Ugh, I think I might still have some stuck in my teeth.”

“Hey, maybe we should prank the kitchen staff first—”

“What, you crazy? Prank the people in charge of our food? Are you kidding me?” Renji asked, aghast.

“Okay, but think. If we play our cards right—a couple forged signatures, a few changes to the menu—and we could have ramen for a _week,”_ Rukia said earnestly. Renji paused, considering.

“Throw in some barbecue and I’m in,” he said finally. Rukia smiled smugly.

“I knew you’d come around,” she said, patting him on the back. “Now I was thinking as a diversion, we could start off with some fireworks…”

 

* * *

 

“Yukimura-saaan!” Rukia choked on a ball of mochi as Urahara Kisuke, Captain of the 12th Division, waltzed into the 4th Division kitchen like he owned the place.

_Third captain this week,_ Rukia thought to herself sourly, in an attempt to distract herself from the fact that her heart had started beating double-time. Seriously, weren’t captains supposed to be like, impossible to get ahold of? Near-mythical figures you’d only see once in a blue moon? So why the hell were they popping up like a bunch of mushrooms after a rainstorm?

“Urahara-taicho,” the answer to Rukia’s question sighed. “What do you want?”

“I think you know the answer to that question already, Yukimura-san,” Urahara scolded, wagging a finger at her. “I believe you have something of mine?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Hisana asked as she motioned towards some complicated-looking device. “You can have it back after I’m done with it.”

“Yukimura-san, I’ve allowed you use of our labs and in return, I think some respect is warranted,” Urahara said sternly. “You cannot simply take our equipment without permission and expect there to be no consequences.”

“Nee-chan…” Rukia glanced at Urahara uncertainly. “Nee-chan, he has a point. Maybe you should—”

“Wow, this makes a fantastic precision cooker,” Hisana mused to herself, looking down at the pot in front of her with satisfaction. “Sous vide steak, here I come.”

“Steak…Yukimura-san, our equipment is not meant to be used for cooking!” Urahara said, an aghast expression on his face. He paused. “How do you even know what sous vide is, anyway?”

“Otoribashi-taicho, of course. Who else?” Hisana answered dismissively. “And don’t worry, I made sure to sterilize everything beforehand.”

“Regardless, no sterilization procedure is perfect and it is impossible to completely eliminate all risks,” Urahara said seriously. “Additionally, that temperature control monitor is very expensive and to use it for anything other than its intended purpose is completely unprofessional. I’m afraid if this behavior of yours continues, I’m going to have to—”

“I’ll send over some steak to your office later,” Hisana interrupted.

“—that’s all I needed to hear, thank you,” Urahara beamed, his demeanor doing a complete 180. “How’s the cooking coming along?”

Rukia gaped.

“Wha—that whole thing—you mean, you didn’t mean any of it?” Rukia blurted out.

“What can I say, I’m easily won over,” Urahara replied with a casual smile. Hisana rolled her eyes.

“Was that all?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Can’t I stop by to see my favorite intern?” Urahara pouted. Hisana scoffed.

“If you have the time to drop by and visit random Academy students, they’re paying you way too much,” she replied, looking deeply unimpressed. “But while you’re here, I’d like to introduce you to my sister.” She glanced at Rukia. “Rukia, meet Urahara Kisuke, Captain of the 12th Division. Urahara-taicho, meet my sister Rukia.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Rukia-chan,” Urahara said with a slight smile. “I hear you’ve recently entered the Academy? How are you finding it?”

“It’s…alright,” she muttered, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was speaking to one of the most powerful people in the afterlife. “I’ve been managing to keep up okay in my classes.”

“She’s being modest. Just the other day she made a boy twice her size cry in her hakuda class,” Hisana said proudly. “I was speaking with Onabara-sensei the other day and he said that she and Renji might be eligible for entrance into the First Class in a year or two. Maybe even early graduation.”

“Very impressive,” Urahara complimented. Rukia couldn’t tell if he was patronizing her or not; his tone seemed sincere but then, it was hard to imagine that she’d impress a _captain_ with something as simple as school grades. “You’ll keep my division in mind, I hope? We always have spots open for bright young minds like yours.”

“I’m sure you do,” Hisana cut in, voice suddenly sharp. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Rukia is interested in a research role.”

“We don’t _only_ do research and development, Yukimura-san,” Urahara said, raising his eyebrows at her.

“But that is your primary focus, isn’t it?” Hisana replied, just a touch too coldly to be polite.

“I’m…I’m not _against_ going into research, nee-chan,” Rukia bit her lip, wilting slightly at the betrayed look Hisana sent her. “At…at the very least, I’d like to hear what Urahara-taicho has to say.”

“Thank you, Rukia-chan,” Urahara smiled briefly at her before turning back to Hisana. “Is research such a bad thing? I’m surprised at you, Yukimura-san. I would’ve thought you to be the last person to object to a scientist position, given how much time you spend in my division.”

“I’d never object to science for the sake of _helping others,”_ Hisana said, eyes hard. “But science for the sake of pushing boundaries, where you focus on what you _can_ do rather than what you _should_ do…it’s rather dangerous, don’t you think? For heaven’s sake, I saw one of your seated officers trying to make a substance that could attract hollows. Why would you _ever_ need something like that?”

“Ah. I believe that was in response to a request filed by Zaraki-taicho,” Urahara replied mildly. “I understand your concern Yukimura-san, but I try not to regulate what my officers work on. I find it stifles creativity.”

“You mean if they’re anything like you, they’ll find ways around orders,” Hisana said exasperatedly.

“Much like you yourself, no?” Urahara tilted his head to the side. “You’ve got more 12th Division in you than you give yourself credit for, Yukimura-san.”

“Don’t say that,” Hisana shuddered. She paused for a second. “I understand not wanting to chain someone, but…you’re their captain. You have a responsibility to what goes on in your squad. With all due respect, don’t you think you give them too much freedom?”

“With all due respect Yukimura-san, that’s why they stay,” Urahara replied. He glanced at Rukia. “Whether or not you think a position in my division is right for you is something you have to decide on your own, Rukia-chan. However, should you ever wish to get a better idea of what we do, stop by and I’d be happy to have someone give you a tour.”

“Not Bozo-face,” Hisana said immediately. When both Urahara and Rukia glanced at her, she flushed. “It’s…possible that he may still be a little irritated with me right now.”

“Misplaced his lab notes again, did you?” Urahara asked dryly.

“Knocked a can of itching powder into his makeup kit,” Hisana corrected, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”

“No,” Rukia replied for the both of them. Hisana let out a mournful sigh.

“My own sister has no faith in me. How cruel,” she cried out dramatically, draping herself over Rukia’s shoulders. 

“Like I said before, she’s got a bright head on her shoulders,” Urahara said, amused, as Rukia tried (unsuccessfully) to shove her off.

“Keep that up and I’m eating your steak. Don’t think I won’t,” Hisana retorted, still clinging to Rukia like a particularly affectionate octopus. Urahara held his hands up in surrender.

“Well, I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll see you around, Rukia-chan. And Yukimura-san, I like my steak medium rare, lightly seasoned, with some mashed potatoes on the side. Be a dear and drop it off around eight tonight?”

“On your head, maybe,” Hisana muttered grumpily, scowling after Urahara’s retreating back. “What am I, his personal cook?”

“He’s…not what I expected a captain to be like,” Rukia admitted quietly. None of the captains she’d met so far—Shihouin, Unohana—had acted quite like she’d expected.

“Oh? How so?” Hisana asked absently. 

“Well I mean, I guess I hadn’t expected to really see any captains or upper-seated officers at all,” Rukia shrugged. “I was talking to some of the other students at the Academy and it’s supposed to be a pretty rare thing, you know?”

“I suppose. But then, it’s not so strange when you think about it,” Hisana mused. “I met Shihouin-taicho through Byakuya, and Urahara-taicho through Shihouin-taicho. Byakuya’s grandfather I met through Eiji, Ukitake-taicho I met through Shiba-fukutaicho, Kyouraku-taicho I met through Ukitake-taicho, and I kind of just ran into Yachiru by chance…and after that, it was only a matter of time before I met her friends.”

“Yeah, but they…they treat you like…like…” Rukia broke off, frustrated.

“Like a source of entertainment?” Hisana finished, scowling. “You don’t have to tell me. Shihouin-taicho _still_ laughs at me every time she sees my shunpo and alright, maybe it’s nothing compared to _hers_ but I’m definitely faster than a three-legged dog no matter what she says. Not to mention, Shiba-fukutaicho using my height against me in a spar when he can kick my ass perfectly well without doing so is just goddamn _rude_ and—”

And what did that say about Hisana? Rukia wondered. People like Shiba Kaien and Shihouin Yoruichi didn’t just go around _taunting_ Academy-level students during training. She’d spoken with Eiji and he’d informed her that with new recruits, Kaien was normally at his most patient and understanding. Hardly the type to make fun of someone’s stance and tell them they looked like a ‘confused turtle’ the way he had the last time he helped Hisana with her katas.

_“Otherwise, it just wouldn’t be fair, you know? Like a hawk picking on a chick that hadn’t learned how to fly yet. Of course, my poor cousin never got the nice treatment,” Eiji had continued, amused. “With him, if it wasn’t Shihouin-taicho stealing his hair-tie, it was Kyouraku-taicho making him do push-ups while he sat on Byakuya’s back and drank sake. I suppose they always saw his potential and that’s why they never minded pushing him a bit harder…they always knew he’d be one of them someday. A lieutenant, if not a captain.”_

_“_ —and I don’t see why everyone always takes their complaints to _me,”_ Hisana continued, grumbling. “If they need a wall repainted or their toilets are clogged again, it’s always ‘Yukimura-san, would you be ever so kind and get someone to take care of that for me?’ I swear, sometimes I feel like the squad secretary, always making appointments and filling out paperwork. I know I’m just an intern and all but still, it can’t be fair to expect me to do _all_ of that.”

“Think of it like a compliment, nee-chan. They think you can handle it,” Rukia murmured. 

“I suppose,” she said, grimacing a little. “Ugh. No wonder Byakuya’s so busy; if I have to do all this work as an _intern,_ I can’t imagine what he has to go through.”  

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rukia answered noncommittally. “Somehow, I think you’ve got the gist of it.”  

 

* * *

 

Rukia’s excitement over being offered a personal tour of the 12th Division was somewhat dampened by the fact that someone else took up that offer as well.

“Nee-chan, I didn’t know you were coming with us,” Rukia said, voice carefully neutral.  

“Late minute decision on my part,” Hisana replied cheerfully. “You know, I don’t think I ever actually got a proper tour of this place. Well, better late than never, right?”

“She doesn’t trust you with us,” their tour guide, a spiky haired kid who’d introduced himself as Akon, said dryly. “Thinks we’re going to feed you to one of the specimens.”

“Akon-kun!” Hisana scolded. “I do not think that!”

“Which is patently absurd,” Akon continued blandly, easily dodging the swipe aimed at his head. “The majority of our specimens require far more meat than you could provide.”

There was an awkward silence.

“That was a joke,” Akon said in the same emotionless tone he’d been using so far. “I believe the proper response is to laugh, or emit some other sign of amusement.”

“Oh,” Rukia chuckled weakly. She was beginning to see why Hisana was so against her considering the 12th. “Yeah, I get it now. That was…funny.”

Hisana rolled her eyes. “Akon-kun, we really need to work on your sense of humor.”

“I was merely being facetious, Yukimura-san. Surely she could see that,” Akon replied.

“What you need are _expressions_ and _tone of voice,_ Akon-kun,” Hisana said exasperatedly. “We’ve talked about this.”

“A joke is meant to be amusing. I was amused. As far as I’m concerned, I met all the requirements,” Akon said impassively.

“Amusing to _other people,_ Akon-kun.”

“Would it appease you if I worded it as a prank? That only needs to be amusing to the instigator, correct?” Akon asked, holding his badge up to a scanner next to a huge set of double-doors. In response, the lights at the top of the door flashed green before opening, revealing rows upon rows of complicated-looking machines with shiny display screens of some kind—each one with a black-clad shinigami sitting in front of it. On the back wall hung a gigantic map, displaying flashing red lights at various locations.

“It’s meant to monitor spiritual energy levels all over Japan,” Akon explained, tracking Rukia’s fascinated gaze. “Flashing red lights mean a sudden surge in reiatsu levels, usually signaling a major hollow attack. This room is where we do the majority of our general surveillance and monitoring.”

“Nee-chan, is this where you work?” Rukia whispered, staring at everything with wide eyes. It was all so…so _advanced._

“No, your sister works in one of our wet labs,” Akon replied. “Although she did prove to be surprisingly adept at picking up computer skills. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was used to working in places with state-of-the-art technology.”

“Hardly state-of-the-art,” Hisana mumbled as Rukia glanced towards her. “They’re _computers_. You don’t have to be a genius to learn how to type.”

“Either way, it meant I didn’t have to spend much time training her, for which I am grateful,” Akon said in a tone that didn’t have gratefulness anywhere near it. “Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to our next stop.” He led them down another narrow hallway, before stopping at the end of it.

“This is where all our chemical labs are. The biological labs, where your sister works, are under buildings D-G,” Akon explained, swiping them in again. “Spare lab coats, goggles, and safety gloves are to your left. Do be careful not to touch anything without my permission; some of our reagents are very corrosive.”

“Ugh, I hate going inside here. I keep telling Urahara-taicho, he needs to do something to improve the ventilation system,” Hisana grumbled as Rukia took in the sight of gleaming steel tables and bottles of carefully labeled chemicals with wide eyes.

“Yes, he was quite taken with your suggestion of adding in ‘fume-hoods,’” Akon replied. “I expect he’ll get started on that right after he puts in a request for eye-wash stations and fire-blankets. Unfortunately, budget restraints do put a limit on how quickly we can implement these vital safety features. Especially since the majority of this quarter’s budget surplus went towards building a new quarantine facility in the Fourth, if I recall correctly.”

Hisana’s eyes narrowed. “That facility wouldn’t be necessary if a certain _someone_ hadn’t infected half a dozen shinigami with a highly contagious, airborne disease,” she retorted.

“How very like you to blame us, Yukimura-san,” a new voice said silkily. “When it’s your own fault for refusing to take my suggestion into account.” Hisana’s expression went flat.

“Your suggestion was to cut your losses and burn the bodies, Kurotsuchi-san. Alive,” she said, face hardening. The infamous Kurotsuchi—who was by far the weirdest looking guy Rukia had ever seen—shrugged casually, spreading his hands out in front of him.

“It was their own fault for not wearing proper protection gear. I did warn them,” he said. “And the loss of a couple idiots too dumb to follow safety procedures is hardly as regrettable as the loss of money that could be put to use making sure such accidents don’t occur again in the future, I should think.” Hisana stared at him.

“They were _new recruits,”_ she said, disgusted. “They’d barely been out of the Academy two weeks.”

“Even better,” Kurotsuchi smiled. “Experienced workers would have been harder to replace.”

“We should move along.” Rukia jumped, startled, as Akon grabbed her by the arm and began leading her away. “This could take them a while.”

“Um, are you sure it’s alright leaving them alone?” Rukia asked uncertainly.

“Of course. They may hate each other but they won’t outright attack each other.” One of Akon’s eyes twitched slightly at the sound of something crashing behind them. “Probably. Anyway, here along the back wall is where we keep all of our newest experiments. For example, hollow repellent.” He motioned towards several test tubes filled with a noxious green liquid. “We’ve had mild success with it but unfortunately, the quantities needed to drive away a medium-strength hollow are as of right now—”

 “—do your worst, why don’t you? We’ve just recruited a bunch of newcomers to our poison treatment team and Unohana-taicho’s been looking for something simple to start them on. She’ll be happy to know that you’ve decided to volunteer your services,” Hisana’s voice came from behind them, practically dripping with vitriol.

“—infeasible to use in battle. On the opposite side of the spectrum, here we have our aptly dubbed ‘hollow bait,’” Akon said, raising his voice. He gingerly picked out a small white pebble from a pile of similar-looking stones, and handed it to her carefully. “Modeled after something that was originally created by the Quincy, by crushing this you release—”

“ _Simple?_ The only thing simple here is your head!” Kurotsuchi hissed angrily. “But if you’re so confident, why don’t you come here and try this out, I’ve been _dying_ to get a proper subject to test it on—”

“—a concentrated burst of spiritual energy, attracting groups of hollows ranging anywhere from ten to fifty in size—” Akon continued loudly, as Rukia studied the innocuous-looking pebble with interest.

 “—but maybe you’re not _completely_ useless, I have heard promising things about that shikai of yours, after all…we’ll have to work on that infernal attitude of yours though, as I can’t have my specimens talking back to me. Maybe if I remove your voice box—?”

 “Given how you’ve all but turned yourself into a science experiment gone wrong at this point, maybe you should follow your own advice! If you’re worried about performing surgery on yourself, I’d be happy to offer that particular service to you, free of charge,” Hisana retorted. “I’ll even offer you the full Kurotsuchi Mayuri special: no anesthesia of any kind, a false sense of grandiosity, and the surgical skills of a three year old.”

“How _dare_ you?” Kurotsuchi shrieked, voice shrill with rage. “I’ll have you know that my surgical skills are _far_ superior to whatever paltry talents an intern like you could muster up—”

“Of course, my mistake,” Hisana mocked. “That’s why your specimens keep dying on you, isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive me, I was under the impression that keeping one’s subjects _alive_ was the benchmark of a surgeon’s skill. How silly of me.” With that, she turned to Rukia, expression stormy.

“Come on Rukia, we’re leaving,” she said, tone leaving no room for argument.

“But…but I haven’t finished my tour yet!” Rukia protested indignantly, hands clenching into fists.

“You don’t want to work in a place like this anyway. Not with coworkers like this,” Hisana dismissed, sending a pointed glare Kurotsuchi’s way. “Now _come.”_

Rukia shoved her hands into her pockets with a scowl but relented, allowing Hisana to take her by the crook of her arm and flash-step them out of the labs. Honestly, she didn’t see why _she_ had to leave; Hisana was the one with a problem with the 12th Division, not her. Sure, that Kurotsuchi guy gave her the creeps but it wasn’t like he was _serious_ about all that stuff. After all, there was no way the Gotei 13 would allow a guy like that to work for them if he was _actually_ conducting experiments on humans, right?

 

* * *

 

Rukia stared at the long sheet of paper posted outside the Academy’s administrative building, feeling her stomach sink lower by the minute. She couldn’t quite seem to tear her eyes away from the number next to her name.

“Rukia sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s just a couple of ranks and besides, you know I’ve never believed grades to be an accurate way of reflecting a person’s skill level anyway,” Hisana comforted. “I mean, you would _not_ believe how much my grades dropped last semester and I bounced back up, didn’t I?”

“Nee-chan, I’m fine,” Rukia said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I just don’t want you to be too upset over this, imouto,” Hisana sighed, before turning to scowl at the ranking board. “Honestly, it’s an entirely archaic grading system, listing everyone’s ranks in the open like this. How are you going to foster any teamwork by constantly pitting students against each other? It’s ridiculous.”

“We know, Hisana-nee-san. You’ve said it all before,” Renji reminded her. She huffed.

“Well, it bears repeating,” she muttered, before glancing at Rukia. “Don’t let it get you down, okay imouto? It’s only your first month, you’ve got plenty of time to improve.”

“I won’t,” Rukia said, slipping a practiced smile onto her face. “Honestly nee-chan, you worry too much. Besides, don’t you have a date with Oni-sensei to get to?”

“Is calling him Byakuya really too much to ask?” Hisana asked.

“Yes,” Rukia and Renji chorused in unison. She rolled her eyes.

“Very well. I left dinner for you two in the Fourth division kitchen. Just ask for Ayame and she’ll get it for you,” Hisana said distractedly, leaning down to kiss them both on the forehead.

“Ooh, what’d you make?” Renji asked eagerly.

“Salad, meatballs for you, bunny-shaped onigiri for Rukia. Given that I included both your favorites, I hope there’ll be no complaints?” Hisana asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Only if there’s not enough,” Renji said grinning.

“Sometimes I suspect there’s not enough food in the world to satisfy you, Renji-kun,” Hisana said exasperatedly, although her expression was rather pleased. “If that’s all, I’ll see you two later then?”

“Yeah. See you,” Rukia agreed, waving.

“God, I thought she’d never leave,” she muttered under her breath as soon as Hisana was out of earshot. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from faking all those smiles.

“Still upset over those grades? So your rank slipped a couple spots, who cares? You’ll make it up,” Renji shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, because slipping sixteen ranks in a single month is normal,” Rukia shot back sarcastically. Renji hesitated.

“You’re still solidly in the middle of the class, if you were worried about slipping into the Third,” he said. Rukia shook her head in frustration.

“You don’t get it. The only way someone’s rank drops _this_ much in such a short amount of time is if they were misranked during the entrance exams,” she said. “I never should’ve scored so far ahead of you Renji, and we both know it.”

“We…we don’t _know_ it was because of Hisana,” he said unconvincingly.

“Oh please, who are you kidding? This is all because they misranked _her_ too,” Rukia said bitterly. “She scores relatively low on her entrance exam, gets low scores in kido class, _sleeps through_ the daily meditation sessions, and the next thing you know she’s activating her shikai. _I_ score relatively low on my entrance exam and they figure it’s probably a fluke like with her. Only it’s not and I actually do suck.”

“Now that’s unfair,” Renji said, narrowing his eyes. “Once you spend sixty years or so using your spiritual energy every day, experimenting with it, and improving your control over it, _then_ you can start comparing yourself to her. And what’s your problem, anyway? Yeah, you may be rank number forty-six right now, but that’s forty-six out of _four hundred._ You’re beating people who are decades older than you, who’ve been training for this every day of their lives. And maybe you can’t match Hisana right now, but that’s why you’re here, right? To get better.”

“But this was supposed to be _different,”_ Rukia burst out. “Fighting was supposed to be _my_ thing, okay? The thing I was good at! Healing, reiatsu control, being good with people…Hisana can have all that. I just…for once in my life, I wanted to be good at something _first.”_ Rukia laughed a little, rubbing at her eyes. “That was probably dumb of me, huh? Of _course_ she’d be good at fighting; the only thing really stopping her before was that she never really tried to learn past defending herself. Now she’s got a shikai that literally heals wounds instantaneously, and I don’t even have a stupid blank sword.”

“Have you tried talking to her about this?” Renji asked hesitantly. Rukia scoffed.

“Sure, that’d go over _real_ well. Hey nee-chan, would you mind actually failing at something for once? Oh, nothing much—just, you know, the actual combat part of being a shinigami. Oh and while you’re at it, can you please stop supervising who I can and can’t see? Sure, being stuck in a lab all day doesn’t really sound like my thing, but I’m almost seventy years old and if I want to be a researcher, I’ll damn well be a researcher. Honestly, I’ve met yakuza bosses less controlling. Like seriously, where does she get off telling me what’s best for me?”

“Rukia,” Renji spoke up quietly.

“I mean, who does she think she is, my mom? News flash, our mom died over sixty years ago and if she wants a kid so damn badly, I hear Byakuya’s free. He probably wouldn’t mind giving her one,” Rukia continued, ignoring him. “And if she’d stop being so…so _patronizing_ all the time, that’d be great too. ‘Grades don’t matter, imouto. What matters is that you grow at your own pace, imouto. You’re going to be great, don’t worry about it imouto,’” Rukia mocked. “‘People are going to know your name someday, imouto.’ Well not with her hovering over my shoulder all the time, they aren’t. And while we’re on the subject, _bunny-shaped_ onigiri? How old does she think I am, thirty? When’s she gonna accept that I’m not some baby that needs her anymore?”

“ _Rukia,”_ Renji hissed, urgently jerking his chin towards her left. Rukia whirled around, ice settling in her stomach as she caught sight of Hisana standing behind her. She suddenly felt sick.

“Nee-chan,” she said hollowly. Any hopes she’d had that Hisana had somehow _not_ heard all that were promptly dashed by the expression on her face. Apparently suppressing her presence was another skill she’d improved upon during her time here.

“Imouto,” Hisana greeted, her posture painfully awkward. She wasn’t meeting Rukia’s eyes, Rukia couldn’t help but notice. “I just came back to return your jacket. You left it in my room.”

“Nee-chan, wait,” Rukia blurted out desperately. “I didn’t mean—” She broke off, unable to complete her sentence. Hisana seemed to understand, a hint of wryness slipping into her expression.

“You did. There’s no need to apologize, Rukia,” she continued as Rukia opened her mouth. “If anything, I should be the one to say that I’m sorry. And I am, imouto,” Hisana said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt this way. In retrospect, my actions have been rather insensitive these past few weeks. You have every right to feel angry with me.”

“No, nee-chan! Hear me out, okay?” Rukia pleaded. Yeah, she’d wanted Hisana to know how she felt, but for Hisana to find out this way was just…it was just _mean._ “It’s…it’s true that I was feeling kinda frustrated this past month but…but that was mostly with _me,_ not with you.”

“It’s okay, Rukia. Really,” Hisana smiled gently. “I’m glad that I know. You should always feel comfortable coming to me about your feelings and the fact that you didn’t is a failing on my part, not yours.” She paused for a second. “I know that I can be a bit…much sometimes. Just let me know the next time I’m being overbearing and I’ll try to tone it down, alright?”

“Nee-chan, it’s nothing,” Rukia insisted. “I’m just being stupid and oversensitive. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to you,” Hisana said quietly. “And I don’t care how small of a thing it is, if it bothers you, then it’s important.”

“But—”

“Listen to me, Rukia,” Hisana interrupted. “You’re my first priority, you always have been. I made a promise the day we arrived in the afterlife that I would be whatever you needed me to be—sister, guardian, teacher, it doesn’t matter. If you need me to back off for a while, I’ll do that too. But in order for me to do my job, you have to be honest with me, okay?”

“As long as you’re honest with me too,” Rukia said after a pause.

“Of course. Anything important and you’ll be the first to know,” Hisana promised. The corner of her mouth tilted up, a touch wistfully. “It seems like every time I turn around, you’re ten times more independent. I don’t know how humans deal with having their children grow up so fast, it must seem like a blink of an e—” She paused, catching herself. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll stop now. You’re right, I’m not your mother, and I should stop acting like it.”

“Nee-chan,” Rukia began, throat feeling tight. She hesitated, not sure what she wanted to say, and eventually settled on, “We’re…we’re okay, right?”

Hisana’s expression softened. “Of course, Rukia.”

_So why didn’t it feel like it?_ Rukia wondered. Outwardly, she just nodded before forcing herself to take a step back.

It was ironic, really. For years now she’d wished for the opportunity to become more independent, for Hisana to look at her and not just see a child to take care of. Now that she’d finally taken the first step towards that goal, she couldn’t help but feel…she cut that thought off.

_It’s better this way,_ she told herself firmly. She’d grown too dependent on Hisana over the years and while that was fine in Inuzuri, if she allowed herself to continue doing that in the Seireitei, she was never going to get anywhere. Some distance…some distance would be good for the both of them.

 

* * *

 

Over the years, Rukia had learned that people could be divided into two categories: morning people and not-morning people. Byakuya was a morning person. Mitsuo was a morning person. Hisana just didn’t sleep.

Renji was decidedly not a morning person.

 “I don’t see why we had to come all the way out to the Rukongai to do this,” Renji grumbled, yawning. “It’s just a present, right? You couldn’t have gotten something in the Seireitei?”

“You know stuff’s cheaper here,” Rukia answered distractedly as they walked through the streets of the Rukongai. Although granted, it didn’t look much like the Rukongai she was used to. Place didn’t look like it was falling apart at the seams, for one. “And besides, this way we don’t risk bumping into Hisana.”

“You’ve still got two weeks until this ‘Thanksgiving’ holiday. And besides, I thought Christmas was the one with the presents; Thanksgiving’s just the one with a ton of food, right?” Renji asked. “What’s it with Hisana and the random celebrations, anyway? I’ve never heard of anyone else celebrating them.”

“It’s tradition, Renji. You don’t question it,” Rukia said, irritated. “I would’ve thought you’d be the last one to complain, anyway. You’ve never been one to turn down a big meal.”

“Yeah well, _normally_ Thanksgiving doesn’t require me to get out of bed at six in the morning,” Renji muttered.

“I just…I wanted to get Hisana something extra this year, alright? To show her how much I appreciate her,” Rukia explained. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I thought things were okay between the two of you,” Renji said, a hint of caution in his tone.

“They are. Everything’s fine. I think. Maybe. I don’t know!” Rukia threw up her arms in frustration. That was the thing with Hisana—you never _really_ knew how she was feeling. In a way, she was worse than Byakuya because at least with Byakuya, you could tell he was hiding his emotions. Hisana, on the other hand, came off as the most open person you could ever meet up until you got to know her better and realized no one could realistically be ‘fine’ all the time.

“I mean,” Rukia continued in a softer voice, “it’s _Hisana._ The whole reason I didn’t wanna tell her anything in the first place is because I knew she’d just blame herself for everything, even the stuff that’s not her fault, and…and I don’t wanna be the reason she’s stressed, you know? Not when it seems she’s finally found a place where she can be herself.”

_Doesn’t she have enough ta deal with, without havin’ ta worry about you too?_ Ichimaru Gin’s voice echoed in her head and she swallowed, digging her nails into her palms.

“What are you talkin’ about? She was fine in Inuzuri too,” Renji said, his offended tone reminding Rukia of Kazuki for a moment.

“It’s different here,” Rukia said, shaking her head in response. “I mean sure, she’s got a ton of new responsibilities but at the same time, she’s an _Academy student_. And one day she’ll be something more but right now, she’s in training and everyone gets that. And with an entire squad of healers around, she can do stuff like get into food fights and prank people. Don’t you get it? She may be busier now but she’s no longer the _Angel of Inuzuri_ —she doesn’t have to go around always pretending that she’s some sort of perfect savior anymore.”

(And didn’t that bring up an interesting point about her relationship with Byakuya? It didn’t take a genius to see that the Kuchiki heir had found his escape in Hisana. Now, Rukia wondered if it didn’t work the other way around as well.)

“You know, you really don’t give yourself enough credit,” Renji said, after a long pause. “I think you know her a lot better than ya think you do.”

“Thanks,” Rukia smiled a little, nudging him with her shoulder. “You’d think that’d make finding her a present a little easier, but—”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Hisana’s like, the easiest person to find gifts for ever. She’ll like anything you get her, unlike _Kaori,_ who only likes weirdly specific sword polishes and _—”_

“Okay, but I don’t want her to just _like_ something, Renji, it has to be _special—”_

“So get her some food then. Can’t go wrong with that, right?” Renji suggested. She smacked him on the head.

“Honestly, can’t you think with something other than your stomach for once, dummy?” Rukia asked exasperatedly.

“ _I’d_ like it,” Renji muttered sullenly. “It’s cheap, it’s useful, and it’s delicious. What more could ya want?”

“If you’re hungry, you could’ve just said so,” Rukia said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. How much money do you have on you?”

“Um…around 200 kan?” Renji offered sheepishly. So about enough for an apple, then. Great.

“Well, aside from the money I have set aside for Hisana’s present, I have…two hundred, three hundred…wait, I think I have another fifty here somewhere,” Rukia said, searching through her jacket pockets. Absentmindedly tossing aside three pieces of lint and a small white pebble, she gave a triumphant shout as she found another hundred-kan coin. “Score! Alright, that should be enough to at least get us a small breakfast, I think.”

“First one to the end of the street gets to pick the place?” Renji asked, grinning. Rukia hesitated just long enough to kick Renji in the shin before sprinting off, smirking at his indignant yelp.

“You’re on.”

 

End Interlude

 

* * *

 

“You’re getting better at those,” Hiro commented, studying the barely-visible, bluish-white threads extending from my fingertips.

“It’s nothing, really. If I try to grab anything heavier than an apple, the strings will break,” I replied, shrugging. 

“Hey, six months ago you couldn’t form a single reiatsu string without it blowing up in your face. Now, you’ve extended your range to twenty feet and you can form up to five at once,” Hiro said, reaching out to flick me on the forehead. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I’ve had a lot of help,” I murmured. Grumpy-face had been invaluable in that aspect. Shirai too, whenever I could convince him to help.

Plus, through some happy coincidence, my time in the Fourth Division poison-treatment squad coincided with their venomous spider unit. Nearly gave Iemura a heart attack when he found me with a bunch of baby black widow spiders dangling from my hands, but…well, as Urahara would say, sometimes you had to accept risks for the sake of science. After all, if there was one thing Grumpy-face had taught me, it was that kido was all about visualization. In terms of texture, strength, and elasticity, spider silk was pretty much the perfect material to study for inspiration when trying to create reiatsu strings.

_For some reason, I doubt prodding the webs of various deadly spiders with your bare hands was what he had in mind when he gave you that advice,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa said dryly.

_Hardly deadly, Tenshi,_ I huffed. Painful (very painful), yes. Lethal, no. Not to a shinigami, anyway.

_It’s just as well that I’m not human,_ was her reply. _If I had hair instead of feathers, it would have gone gray long ago._

_You exaggerate,_ I huffed. Sure, I did risky things sometimes, but they were _calculated_ risks. At the very least, I made sure the benefits outweighed any potential costs. _Byakuya deals with me every day too and he doesn’t worry half as much as you do._

_Kuchiki Byakuya only sees one side of you, little firebird,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa pointed out. _And besides, I cannot help worrying. I am_ your _zanpakuto spirit, after all._

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

“Hello? Anyone there?” I blinked, coming out of my thoughts as Hiro waved a hand in front of me. “Earth to Hisana.”

“Oh. Oops. Sorry about that,” I apologized sheepishly. “Apparently I still haven’t quite gotten the hang of carrying on two conversations at once.”

“No worries. It happens to the best of us,” Hiro grinned. “Just don’t do it during our spar, okay? When I win, I don’t want any excuses about how you’re ‘still adjusting to having a zanpakuto spirit.’”

“Awfully confident of you to say that. Remind me again, who was the victor of our last spar?” I retorted.

“That doesn’t count!” Hiro squawked in indignation. “Who the hell pulls a bunch of fucking spiders out in the middle of a spar anyway? And considering that it was a _swordfight,_ in that you’re only supposed to use _swords_ , I think that move should have counted as an automatic disqualification—”

“If you remember, Hiro-kun, the agreement was ‘no kido’ and so chucking a spider at your face was technically not against the rules,” I said mildly.

“Like hell it wasn’t! That’s total bullshit and you know it. Rukia-chan, back me up here—” He paused, looking around. “Hey, where is she, anyway? Doesn’t she usually follow you around on Sundays?”

“Not sure,” I shrugged, forcing myself to remain relaxed.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Hiro mused. I whirled around, pressing my lips together tightly.

“What’s so strange about it?” I asked hotly, narrowing my eyes. “She’s her own person, she has her own life. Is it really so unthinkable for me to not keep tabs on her all the time?”

“Whoa there. I didn’t mean to offend,” Hiro said, raising his hands in surrender. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I mean, this is the only day of the week you both have off, so I figured you’d want to spend it together.”

“Oh.” I mumbled, deflating. “I-I’m sorry, Hiro-kun. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess I’ve just been having an off week.”

“Mm.  Want to talk about it?” He offered. I debated that for a moment, before deciding to go for it. Getting an outside perspective couldn’t hurt and every time I tried to bring the subject up with Tenshi no Tsubasa, she was conveniently ‘asleep.’

“It’s nothing much. It’s just…well, it’s Rukia. We had a bit of an argument a couple days ago.” I was silent for a moment. “Tell me the truth, Hiro. Is it normal for me to have such a hard time letting go?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Hiro said thoughtfully. “The Seireitei is a dangerous place. It’s understandable that you’d respond to that by being a little overprotective.”

“Even so.” I fiddled with my scarf. “I’ve known that Rukia’s wanted to become a shinigami for decades now, and I came to terms with the fact that one day, I’d have to let her grow up. Or I thought I did, anyway. Turns out, theory is a lot easier than practice.”

“She’s still a kid. I’d be worried if you _didn’t_ have any trouble letting her go,” Hiro replied. “I mean, when Chiyo first started going on missions, I’d find myself in a constant state of anxiety until she got back. Although, I suppose that hasn’t changed much,” he added wryly.

“Mm. I suppose what worries me most is the fact that I _didn’t notice_ how she felt _,”_ I said, bewildered. First with Ayame, now with Rukia—so much for being perceptive. “Of course she’d grow to resent me. I’ve been coddling her like she’s still the same toddler who once tried to stuff poisonous mushrooms in her mouth. And then, to make things worse, I’m stealing her dream…or at least, I’m getting there first. With that in mind, how could she not?” I looked over at Hiro, feeling a little desperate. “How can I possibly be a good sister if I can’t even notice something’s wrong? I’ve been smothering her this entire time and I didn’t even _realize.”_

“To be fair, this has been an adjustment period for the both of you. Just give it time. You both love each other and that will never change; you can work through all the other stuff at your own pace,” Hiro said reassuringly.

“Easier said than done,” I said wryly. “Aside from quitting as a shinigami, and that option was off the table for me to begin with, I can’t think of anything I can do to…well, get out of her way, so to speak.”

“I don’t think it’s you being a shinigami that’s the main issue. The problem is that there’s a fundamental inequality in your relationship,” Hiro said thoughtfully. “Which can’t be helped, really; I mean, you practically raised her, of course your dynamic isn’t going to be that of equals. However, judging by what you’ve told me, you becoming a shinigami probably exacerbated her insecurities to the point that right now, she feels like anything she _does_ succeed at is owed to your influence. Anything she fails at, she likely finds doubly as frustrating, particularly when she looks at your success.” I blinked. Forget Chiyo, Hiro was the one who’d missed his true calling in the Fourth. He could have led the entire psychiatric division on his own.

“So what can I do to fix that?” I asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“Nothing,” he said helpfully. “But at least now you have an idea of where she’s coming from. She just wants to close the gap between you two before it gets any wider.” I digested that for a moment. It was still difficult to wrap my head around the fact that Rukia felt overshadowed. By _me. Rukia,_ one of the most important, central characters of Bleach, felt overshadowed by _me,_ Hisana, who barely warranted a footnote in the original plot. Granted, Rukia had no way of knowing that she’d eventually become one of the strongest shinigami in the afterlife, but she never seemed to have an issue with confidence before. She called Byakuya _Oni-sensei_ for god’s sake.

“You know, we all know about Rukia’s motivation for becoming a shinigami. What about yours?” Hiro asked, looking at me intently. “I know it’s not something you’d originally wanted for yourself, but…well, speaking honestly here, _no one_ works as hard as you do for a goal they don’t think is worth it.”

I thought about that for a moment. Funny, no one had asked me that question before.

“I guess in the beginning, I figured I’d just try to make the most out of my situation. If I didn’t have a choice in the matter, I might as well go all in, right?” I answered after a pause. “And after a while…well, I know I’m not Rukia’s mother and I know she doesn’t think of me as one. But I still raised her and I couldn’t help thinking, maybe if I pushed myself, tried my hardest, then when the day comes that she really is in danger, I could…” I thought about Aizen and his seemingly endless strength, Tousen and his misguided justice, Gin and his willingness to sacrifice anything for his goals. “Even I if I couldn’t win her battles for her, I could at least _do_ something, you know? Serve as an effective shield, if all else fails. I’d do anything to keep her safe and happy.”

“And you think this would make her _happy?”_ Hiro asked, a strange look in his eyes.

 “Safe, then,” I amended. “I guess I’ve already proven I’m not so good at the happy part, huh?”

“A rather heavy burden to place on someone, don’t you think?” He asked, expression unreadable. “It’s not just about feeling overshadowed or wanting to find her place, is it? On some level, Rukia knows that for any mistake she makes, you’ll be the one paying for it.”

That was a rather harsh way of putting it. I swallowed, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“Isn’t that what love is, though?” I asked softly. “Suffering if it means the people you care about don’t have to?”

“Not the way you do it.” Hiro sighed wearily and I couldn’t help but notice he looked rather old in that moment. “Look, Hisana. I love Chiyo, and I’d happily die for her in battle. But me and Chiyo? We have _separate lives._ She has her own friends and her own hobbies that I am not a part of, and most importantly, _my life would not end if hers did._ Can you say the same?”

Luckily, before I had a chance to answer I was interrupted by an ominous rumbling sound above us.

“Thunder? But there isn’t a cloud in sight,” Hiro muttered in confusion before paling at the sight of the sky splitting apart in the distance. “That’s a…no, it can’t be! A garganta this close to the Seireitei? That’s impossible!”

“Given the ample evidence to the contrary, I don’t think ‘impossible’ is the right word to use here,” I said, feeling my stomach sink. Cursing under my breath, I took my earlier thoughts back—I should’ve known better than to think the universe had actually smiled down upon me for once. “Where do you think that garganta is coming from?”

“Looks like…near the borders of South Rukongai’s 1st district?” Hiro guessed.

“Mm. And what’s the protocol for sudden large-scale hollow attacks like this one, again?” I asked.

“Well, South Rukongai’s usually under the jurisdiction of Squads 10 and 13. Given that time is of the essence here, it’ll probably be our squad that’s sent out, since we’re closer,” Hiro explained. “After initial threat assessment, either Ukitake-taicho or Shiba-fukutaicho will select a team of ten to twelve shinigami with abilities they believe best suited—Hisana, what are you doing?” Hiro yelped as I sprinted through the door.

“It’ll take them too long to get there. My way is faster,” I said agitatedly, slipping into a shunpo the moment I exited the 13th Division headquarters.

“Are you crazy?! There’s got to be at least a couple dozen hollows coming through that garganta—” Hiro protested as he caught up to me.

“You don’t understand. Rukia and Renji are out there right now,” I replied, flash-stepping in the direction of the South Gate.

“Rukia—? I thought you said you didn’t know where she was today!”

“I lied!” Before I could take another step, Hiro flash-stepped in front of me, grasping me by the arms.

“No. This is insanity, Hisana,” he said urgently. “You know it is. Let the professionals handle this, you’ll just get in the way if you try to int—son of a bitch!” He cursed, releasing me as I head-butted his nose. “Goddammit, Hisana!” He snapped, grabbing my wrist before I could make my escape. “I won’t let you—”

“Let me?” I laughed harshly. “You don’t know me very well, do you Hiro?” Blue electricity flickered down my wrist and Hiro’s eyes widened, letting go a fraction of a second before the sparks reached his hand. I didn’t waste the opportunity, using his moment of surprise to hit him with a low-level bakudou spell before he could recover.

Of course, it didn’t last. I’d barely been out of the Seireitei two minutes when he caught up to me. “I’m going with you.”

“That isn’t necessary,” I replied, although I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have time to argue with him.

“Like hell. You saved my life. You saved _Chiyo’s_ life. If you think I’m going to let your suicidal ass go off to fight a bunch of hollows alone, you’ve got another think coming,” Hiro retorted, easily keeping in line with my own steps. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but sigh—was _everyone_ in this goddamn city faster than I was?

Luckily for me though, there was an easy way to remedy that.

“Rise, Tenshi no Tsubasa,” I murmured and then promptly doubled over as a rush of panic surged through me, hitting me like a nausea-flavored brick wall.

“Hisana? You okay?” Hiro asked frantically.

“I’m fine,” I gasped out, struggling to breathe as Tenshi no Tsubasa murmured soothingly, worriedly, to me.

“You’re shaking,” Hiro said, reaching out to steady me with one hand.

“It’ll pass,” I said, shaking him off.

“I’ve never seen a zanpakuto affect their wielder like this,” Hiro fretted.

“Tenshi no Tsubasa’s power _amplifies,_ Hiro. Part of that includes my emotional state,” I said through gritted teeth. The first time it had been a strong determination to live; later, whenever I’d activated it in spars, it had mostly been competitiveness. Panic, fear, dread…those were new ones, though. “Now come on, let’s _go.”_  

Even fighting off the faint tremors wracking my body, my speed had increased to the point where it took barely five minutes to reach where Rukia and Renji were standing back-to-back. Rukia, at least, had the custom-made knives Kaori had given her a couple years ago. Renji was holding a rather pathetic-looking stick.

“Hadou #33: Soukatsui,” I intoned coldly, dissipating the bat-like hollow Rukia was currently struggling against in a flash of blue fire.

“Wha—nee-chan!” Rukia let out a startled squawk. “What are you doing here?!”

“Saving your skin,” Hiro answered grumpily as he caught up to us a moment later. “I see the trouble-magnet gene Hisana has is hereditary.” Holding his zanpakuto out in front of him, he took a deep breath. “Cauterize, Kurimuzonhebi,” A minute later, he was using his sword-turned-flaming-whip to slice right through three hollows in quick succession.

“I-I don’t know what happened,” Rukia rambled. I scanned her quickly, noting that although she was breathing heavily and covered with sweat, she didn’t appear to be injured. “The sky just…just _split open_ and all these hollows were coming out and Renji and I tried to lead them over to the forest where there were less people—”

A memory flickered behind my eyes, of being seven years old again, a monster only I could see traipsing through a town of oblivious villagers, sprinting towards the forest in an attempt to reduce the number of potential casualties, desperately praying for help to arrive—

“Less talking, more fighting,” Hiro growled, wrenching Renji out of the way of a falling tree. “And you.” He reached into his shihakusho, pulled out a knife, and shoved it at him. “Aren’t you Rukongai? What the hell are you doing walking around unarmed, idiot?”

“Look out!” Rukia screamed as Renji opened his mouth to retort. Hiro cursed, pulling Renji with him as he flash-stepped out of the path of a hollow the size of a small elephant. I didn’t have time to check on them though, leaping onto the back of some scorpion-shaped hollow and jamming my zanpakuto into the base of its skull. It was all I could do to keep Rukia in my sight as the gaping hole in the sky widened, more hollows spilling through, everything a blur of white bone and sweeping claws, an endless stream of enemies that _wouldn’t stop coming._

In the distance, I could hear Renji keep up a continuous stream of cursing, demonstrating that yes, he was in fact Rukongai. I’d lost track of Hiro although the occasional flicker of red fire in the corner of my eye reassured me that he was still in fighting shape, at least.

_You can’t keep this up forever, little firebird,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa murmured urgently as I dodged one attack just in time to get thrown into a tree by another hollow’s dinosaur-sized tail. I got up, wincing as I felt my ribs knit themselves back together, and promptly promised myself that if I got through this alive, the first thing I’d do would be to take Ikkaku up on those training session offers.

_You think I don’t know that?_ I asked, ducking behind a tree just in time to avoid a shower of razor-sharp spikes (which was some bullshit honestly, as if the armor-thick skin wasn’t enough they were now capable of throwing projectiles? How was that even fair?). Still, if we could keep this up, just another ten, fifteen minutes…backup couldn’t be too far away by now…

It was the sudden emptiness that tipped me off. One moment the air was thick with reiatsu and the sounds of battle, heavy and suffocating, a recipe for chaos and the next instant it was like some integral ingredient had been removed, causing the entire thing to fall in on itself and—

“Rukia,” I gasped, stumbling towards where I’d last sensed her reiatsu signature, tired and wavering but still unmistakable in its brightness but now it was _gone_ and no, it couldn’t be true, I had to be mistaken, I _had_ to be—

_My life would not end if hers did. Can you say the same?_

_What a stupid question_ , I thought to myself faintly as I finally spotted Rukia--- her body curled in on itself, one of those spikes I’d side-stepped earlier lodged in her chest ( _stupid stupid stupid,_ what was I _thinking,_ not throwing up a shield?). Distantly, I registered dropping my zanpakuto, Tenshi no Tsubasa falling to the ground with a dull thud. Ignoring her voice echoing in my head—muffled, oddly indistinct in a way it hadn’t been since before activating my shikai—I reached out, pressing trembling hands against the growing stain on Rukia’s chest. Hoping. Praying.

_A pulse. Shard of bone, three inches long, lodged in pericardium. Complete traumatic aortic transection. 30% blood loss. Immediate surgery and transfusion required. Chance of survival: 6%._

“Can you save her?” Renji asked in a small voice. I glanced behind me, giving him a quick once over—pale face, bleeding heavily from a cut above his right eye, whole-body tremors. Doubted he’d be able to last another two minutes without collapsing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hiro mutter an incantation before a gigantic translucent dome formed around us, pushing back the hollows. Judging by the strained expression on his face, I estimated he could hold the spell for a minute, at most. Not enough for me to begin the healing process, then.

“No,” I admitted, the word tearing my throat like acid. “But I can give her a chance.”

_Hisana, what are you doing?_ Tenshi no Tsubasa asked frantically, a hint of fear entering her voice for the first time. _No, don’t do this, please, it’s not worth it,_ she’s _not worth it—_

“Fossilized bone, petrified trees, penetrating stone,” I chanted, gritting my teeth as I felt my head spin. Fighting against the vertigo threatening to overwhelm me, I forced myself to continue. “Bring upon the endless winter and—” I gasped for breath, my head starting to pound. Black spots were forming in front of my eyes. “—finish in eternal silence! Chiyudou #44: Complete Paralysis!”

“What’d you do?” Renji asked, eyes wide. “That…that didn’t sound like your normal healing spell.”

“It isn’t. But it’ll keep her current condition stable, for a couple more minutes at least.” I closed my eyes, breathing out slowly as I fought to stay upright. Essentially, the spell used my reiatsu to keep her body in stasis. Same principle as cryogenics, really, only without the frost damage. Problem was, to use the spell, you not only had to have perfect reiatsu control, you also had to match the patient’s current level of spiritual energy with your own. Which left me with…next to nothing, really.

“Why did you use the last of your reiatsu on that? You won’t even be able to flash-step now, let alone defend…” Hiro’s voice trailed off, horrified realization dawning on his face. “You can’t be planning…no, I refuse, I won’t—”

“Ten minutes, Hiro,” I said softly, watching as cracks began forming in his bakudou spell. “She needs to reach the Seireitei inside that time window, before the spell wears off. You need to leave now.”

“What’s going on?” Renji demanded.

“Your _sister,”_ Hiro spat. “Expects me to leave her behind to _die._ Well not on my watch, you hear me? I’m not going back without you—”

_Listen to him,_ Tenshi no Tsubasa pleaded. _You said it yourself earlier, just a little more time and backup will be here, if you just stall until then—_

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t possibly carry three people at once,” I said, addressing Hiro. I was dead weight at this point, and we both knew it. “Besides, someone needs to stay behind to buy you time, distract the hollows long enough for you to escape.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Hiro said stubbornly.

“Hiro.” I waited until his eyes met mine. “You owe me. Please.”

Hiro’s lips thinned and for a moment it looked like he was going to cry. Then his eyes hardened and he gently picked Rukia up, knocking Renji out as well when it looked like the boy was going to protest.

The second he vanished, Rukia and Renji safely in his arms, his shield shattered into thousands of shimmering, translucent shards. The hollows didn’t follow him and I didn’t expect them too; animal instinct dictated that they turn to the weakest prey first, after all.

_Hiro was wrong about one thing though,_ I mused, picking my zanpakuto up from the ground. Just because I didn’t have any spiritual energy left to spare didn’t mean I didn’t have any spiritual energy _left._

Ten minutes, was it? I could give him ten minutes.

“You know, I’ve always thought that your power was primarily defensive—focused mainly on keeping me alive—but that’s not quite true, is it?” I said out loud, addressing Tenshi no Tsubasa for the first time since I’d felt Rukia’s spiritual energy vanish. “After all, a phoenix’s rebirth has two parts.”

_\--please Hisana, listen to me, don’t do this, don’t make me kill y—_

“Sorry Tenshi, but that’s not your choice to make,” I murmured, picturing Rukia’s face in my mind—pale, wan, motionless.

_My life would not end if hers did. Can you say the same?_

“No,” I whispered as the first hollow reached me. “But you knew that already.”

The command fell from my lips almost without conscious thought, rising from somewhere deep within me and leaving an encroaching numbness behind. It was a familiar feeling, like the last breath taken on an oxygen mask. Cold, like saltwater kissing the lungs.

_“Burn, Tenshi no Tsubasa.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah. A lot of heavy stuff this update. For obvious reasons, this chapter was not exactly easy to write.   
> Mainly wanted to show that Rukia and Hisana’s relationship was not quite as healthy as it appeared on the surface.   
> Rukia: I want to get strong enough that Hisana is forced to acknowledge I’m capable of taking care of myself and dealing with the consequences of my own mistakes, which will hopefully bolster my sense of self-worth and confidence. Also I want to prove to everyone that I’m capable of becoming just as good a shinigami as Hisana, which will hopefully allow me to move past just being ‘Hisana’s little sister.’  
> Rukia: *is constantly compared to Hisana in her classes and found lacking*  
> Rukia: *feels guilty about her own feelings because she knows Hisana is just trying her best to be a Loving and Supportive Sister™*  
> Rukia: *proves in her first ever battle that she is not, in fact, strong enough to take care of herself which results in Hisana deciding to sacrifice herself to buy Rukia time*  
> Rukia next chapter (spoiler alert—she lives!): *has a lot of issues*  
> Meanwhile, on the other side…  
> Hiro: Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, your level of devotion might be just a little overwhelming.  
> Hisana: What, you mean this isn’t normal?
> 
> Also, for those wondering, I always intended for Hisana’s shikai to have two sides to it. For those insisting having multiple shikai abilities isn’t canon, please see exhibits Hanataro and Urahara.   
> Bonus points if you can figure out the series of unlucky coincidences that caused the attack. If you think the hollow attack was an improbable plot device, consider this: it’s Bleach.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual but what the heck, it’s been a while since I’ve updated and this is mostly a transition chapter anyway.  
> In which Rukia has a very bad time, Eiji is the real MVP here, and Gin is an utter bastard (shocker, I know).

_“Yukimura? Yukimura! Yuki—Hisana, can you hear me?”_

_“—she’s cold as ice—”_

_“Holy shit, what happened here?”_

_“Medic! We need a medic!”_

_“You stupid girl, what were you thinking—”_

_“Sir…sir, we’re losing her—”_

_“Hisana! Wake up, dammit!”_

_“Shiba-fukutaicho, we need to get her to the Seireitei right away!”_

_“Don’t you dare die on me, do you understand? That’s an order. You’re a goddamned_ Academy student _, you’re not supposed to…don’t…”_

_“Shiba-fukutaicho, we need to leave!”_

_“—you hear me? Don’t you dare give up now!”_

 

* * *

 

There was an annoying itch on her nose.

Rukia wrinkled her forehead, hoping the feeling would go away. When the itch only intensified, she frowned before cracking one eye open with a Herculean effort. Seriously, she’d lifted boulders lighter than her eyelid felt at that moment.

Light hit her pupil and she immediately regretted her decision, closing her eye and turning to the side. A few minutes passed before she felt strong enough to try again; this time, her foray into the world of light yielded a fuzzy red blob.

“Oh good, you’re waking up,” the fuzzy red blob said. A few hard blinks to get the sleep out of her eyes revealed that the fuzzy red blob was actually Renji, who looked like he hadn’t slept for a couple of days.

“You look like crap,” she croaked out. Her limbs still felt oddly stiff and her throat was so dry talking felt painful, but it’d take more than that to keep her from offering her honest opinion. “Like, more than usual even.”

Renji rolled his eyes, a gesture that didn’t quite mask the relief on his face.

“Believe me, I look a hell of a lot better than you do right now,” he said dryly.

“I really doubt that,” Rukia said with a tired grin, finally feeling strong enough to reach for the glass of water at her bedside. “What happened? Last thing I remember is—” Her voice broke off as she remembered the sky breaking open above her, hollows spilling through, Hisana coming to the rescue, a volley of spikes, and…she swallowed, subconsciously pressing one hand against her chest where she felt the raised ridges of a new scar.

“Yeah,” Renji said, a note of forced cheerfulness in his voice. “Don’t worry though, the healers said that they got to you just in time and that you’re gonna be fine. No complications.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” Rukia said, peeking down at the scar on her chest. It was…kind of cool, actually. Definitely badass. “Where’s nee-chan? I would’ve thought she’d be here.”

Renji flinched. Rukia looked up at him in concern.

“Renji? Is something wrong?” She asked, feeling a little worried now.

“No, no—everything’s fine! We all made it back,” he said, a statement made thoroughly unconvincing by the fact that he now looked slightly sick. “Hisana’s here, she’s just, um, occupied with, uh, something else right now.”

“Uh huh,” Rukia said flatly. “Renji, what’s going on?”

“Nothing you should worry about right now! You just, uh, focus on…recovering and…and gaining your strength back and all that other crap Hisana says. In fact, why don’t you go back to sleep? You could use the rest and—”

“Renji,” Rukia cut him off. If her voice shook just a little, well, she could blame it her lingering tiredness. “Where is my sister?”

“I—” Renji began and then paused. Visibly bracing himself, he swallowed before starting again.

“Rukia,” he said softly, not quite meeting her eyes. “There’s something you should know.”

 

* * *

 

“When is she going to wake up?” Byakuya asked, eyes never leaving the figure on the bed. Funny—for all that he’d poked fun at Hisana’s height in the past, he’d never thought of her as _small._ Until now, at least.

“I am afraid that is up to her now,” Unohana said softly. “There is nothing further I can do.”

At that, Byakuya turned around, eyes narrowing.

“You are the greatest healer in the world, Unohana-taicho. Surely there must be _something_. Or don’t you care enough to even try?”

“Byakuya!” Ginrei cut in, voice sharp. “Mind your tongue!”

Byakuya bowed his head, looking away.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to direct my anger at you, Unohana-taicho.”

“No apology is necessary. I understand you must be operating under quite a lot of stress right now.” An unreadable expression flashed across her face as she glanced towards where Hisana lay, motionless. “As am I.”

“Despite my grandson’s lack of manners, he does have a point however,” Ginrei said sharply. “I understand that there are techniques you can employ to awaken a patient from a deep unconsciousness. I assume that there are extenuating circumstances that prevent you from using them in this situation?”

“Correct. By sending a shock through her heart and brain, there is a large chance I would be able to wake her. However, as with any treatment, there are risks and possible side effects, and in Hisana’s case…” Her voice trailed off. “Did you know that when she was brought to me yesterday, she’d actually sustained very little outside physical injury? The hollows barely touched her.” She looked down at Hisana and that same unreadable expression crossed her face again. “No, most of the harm done to her body was self-inflicted.”

“Excuse me?” Byakuya demanded, stiffening.

“I would also like an explanation, Unohana-taicho,” Ginrei said, placing a firm hand on Byakuya’s elbow. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“It’s a simple diagnosis, really. Reiryoku depletion.” At that, Ginrei made a sound of comprehension. Byakuya looked between them, frown deepening.

“Reiryoku depletion? But that’s easily cured by a spiritual energy transfusion, isn’t it? How could that result in a coma?” Byakuya asked.

“There’s a reason it’s so rarely a serious issue. As you know, reiatsu is the physical manifestation of reiryoku. There’s always a small amount of reiryoku present in every soul, even non-shinigami. Through practice, a shinigami can expel the reiryoku inside their body in the form of reiatsu,” Unohana explained. “Now, similar to the way a person always retains some air in their lungs no matter how hard they exhale, some of this reiryoku is not available for use. This emergency reiryoku reserve is the minimum amount of spiritual energy a soul needs to survive; if depleted, the body will shut down and the soul will die.”

“Now, normally a person will fall unconscious long before they reach that point; a kind of built-in safety feature, you could say. Even if a person starts to use up their emergency reiryoku reserve, there is no immediate danger, as the body will compensate by rapidly producing more reiryoku. As such, it is nearly unheard of for a case of reiryoku exhaustion to turn fatal—it is also why so few people know about this, as it is rarely relevant. However, if enough time passes and the emergency reiryoku reserve still isn’t restored—”

“—it will result in the organs shutting down, one by one,” Ginrei finished. “I see.”  

Byakuya was silent for a long moment.

“You said that most people wouldn’t know about this,” he said finally.

“Correct,” Unohana affirmed.

“But a healer would,” he said flatly. It was not a question.

“Also correct,” Unohana replied, after a slight pause. Byakuya closed his eyes, absorbing what he already knew.

“So you’re telling me,” it took effort to keep his voice steady, “that Hisana figured out a way to disable every natural defense her body had, in order to _die in the most efficient way.”_ He let out a dry chuckle. Well, no one had claimed that Hisana couldn’t be ruthlessly practical—when it came to her own wellbeing, at least. “She was never planning on coming back, was she? She wasn’t stalling for backup, she—” He swallowed hard. “She wasn’t even going to _try.”_

His grandfather’s grip on his elbow tightened.

“Byakuya, you mustn’t—”

 “And that’s why you don’t want to risk artificially waking her up, isn’t it?” Byakuya interrupted, ignoring him. “Because she messed up her own body to the point where any tiny thing right now could result in her losing her memories or her ability to reason or her _mind…_ I mean, for all we know she may have already suffered brain damage—”

“This is just a precautionary measure, Kuchiki-san. As of right now, her condition is stable and there is no reason to think that she will suffer permanent injury,” Unohana said quietly. “I simply do not want to introduce any unnecessary risk.”

“She will be fine,” Ginrei said reassuringly. “Have faith, grandson. She’s a strong girl. She’ll get through this.”

“Of course,” Byakuya muttered, shaking his head to clear it. She’d be fine. She _had_ to. “I—” He paused as he sensed a familiar reiatsu presence outside the door. “Excuse me.”

Stepping outside, he paused as he saw Rukia curled up in a ball, sitting across from the room.

“Rukia,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were up.” Abruptly, he felt a twinge of guilt for not going to see her earlier. He’d known she was injured but…well, in the face of Hisana’s…he pushed those thoughts away.

“How is she?” Rukia asked in a small voice, posture subdued.

“She’s—” He hesitated, unsure of what to say. “She’s stable.”

“Renji said she’s in a coma. Is that true?” She asked, finally looking up. Byakuya politely pretended not to notice her bloodshot eyes, the vivid, red crescent-shaped marks on her arms that stood out starkly against pale skin.  

“Unohana-taicho is optimistic about her chances of waking up,” he answered.

“Ah. That’s good,” Rukia replied, looking back down at her knees.

They fell into a stilted silence, Byakuya desperately searching for something to say. Had things between them always been this awkward? He didn’t think so…but then, they’d always had Hisana to mediate between them.

“You can go in to see her, if you want,” Byakuya said finally, after the silence had stretched on long enough to become painful. At that, Rukia flinched violently.

“No!” As Byakuya blinked, startled, he saw Rukia visibly gather herself.

“I mean…not right now. I don’t…I don’t wanna see her like that,” she confessed, looking away. “Not just yet, anyway.”

“…I see.” He didn’t, not really. Judging by Rukia’s wince, his voice had come out colder than intended. “In that case, I suggest you head back to the Academy rather than waste your time here. As I understand, the healers don’t like people cluttering up their hallways.”

He turned away, ignoring the stricken look on Rukia’s face. A small voice in the back of his head whispered that he was being too harsh, that Hisana would have wanted him to reassure Rukia in her place, but…

But Hisana wasn’t awake to tell him that and he had no patience for those who couldn’t appreciate the sacrifices she made for them.

 

* * *

 

“There you are. I wanted to check in on you—how are you holding up?” Eiji asked, walking over. Rukia scoffed, looking away.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about,” she said.

“Can’t I worry about you both?” Eiji asked gently. “Things haven’t exactly been easy on you either.”

“I guess,” Rukia muttered. “Still, Hisana’s the one who’s…well, Hisana’s the one you should be checking on. You shouldn’t…” She swallowed. “You should go.”

“I visited her this morning.” He paused. “And besides, out of the two of you, you’re the only one I can help right now.” Rukia glared at him.

“I don’t _need_ your help!” She hissed. “I’m fine. What about those two words don’t you get?”

“Alright, alright!” Eiji held his hands up in surrender. “You don’t need my help. I get it. Still,” he continued as he took a seat next to her. “This is such a nice spot you’ve got here. You don’t mind if I enjoy it with you, do you?”

Rukia squinted at him suspiciously. He smiled winningly back at her.

“I make it a point to appreciate the beauty of nature whenever I can,” he said innocently.

“Right,” Rukia said skeptically as she glanced around the courtyard they were in. Dead leaves everywhere, bare tree branches, laundry sheets blowing in the wind. In the distance, she could hear a couple of chickens clucking.

Beauty of nature, indeed.

“You’re annoying,” she accused.

“I’ve been called worse things,” he chuckled. “You’ve met Hiro, haven’t you? He could give you a few suggestions.” At the reminder of the _last_ time she saw Murakami Hiro, she stilled.

“Yeah, I’ve met him.” She glanced at Eiji. “How is he, anyway?”

At that, Eiji’s face turned serious.

“Not very well, I’m afraid. Physically, he’s fine but…” Eiji sighed. “Well, he’s taken Hisana’s state rather hard. Understandable, of course, but Chiyo and I are starting to worry about him. If it weren’t for Unohana-taicho kicking him out, he’d probably still be in Hisana’s room.”

“Which is where I should be right now,” Rukia said, her voice barely audible. Clenching her fists, she hugged her knees to her chest. “You probably think I’m an awful person. I mean, what kind of sibling doesn’t even visit their sister in the hospital?”

“But you are visiting her,” Eiji corrected, looking around. “Granted, you’re sitting outside her window instead of inside her room, but you’re visiting her all the same.”

“It helps,” Rukia admitted. “Being able to feel her reiatsu close by.”

“That it does” Eiji agreed. He paused before continuing, voice turning gentle. “It’s a difficult thing, to see a loved one injured.”

“It’s not just that,” Rukia clenched her teeth together. “I’m the reason she’s in there. I…How can I possibly face her, when…when it’s all my fault she’s like this?”

“Look, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Hisana,” Eiji said firmly. “She knew what she was doing, and she made her choice.”

“It’s not that,” Rukia raised her voice, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “I’m…I’m the reason everything happened—”

“Don’t say that, Rukia-chan. You can’t take responsibility for what she—”

“ _The attack was my fault!”_ She screamed. Against her will, a sob escaped her lips, tearing her throat like acid.

“What?” Eiji blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“I—I didn’t realize it at first.” Rukia squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to force the tears back. “But then Renji—” Her voice caught, before she forced herself to continue. Eiji needed to know, he _deserved_ to know the truth before he wasted any more of his time on her. “Renji told me they were investigating the cause of the attack.”

“I hardly see how that concerns you,” Eiji said, puzzled.

“He said that the 12th Division was looking into it,” Rukia said softly, ignoring him. “That one of their experimental creations had somehow ended up outside the Seireitei. That—”

_“—a concentrated burst of spiritual energy was what caused the garganta,” Renji explained, voice low and angry. “Oni-sensei’s furious, of course; I mean, from what I hear the experiment those crazy nutsos were working on was dumb to begin with and to make things worse, they have no idea how it even got outside the Seireitei—”_

_“What did you say?” Rukia cut in sharply. Renji looked at her, confused._

_“Uh…that Byakuya’s so angry, even the cat-lady’s giving him space?”_

_“No, before that…the part about the ‘concentrated burst of spiritual energy’ thing,” she murmured. Where had she heard those words before?_

_“Um, yeah. Some stupid shit called hollow bait, can you believe it? Been trying for thousands of years to keep hollows_ away _and those morons go ahead and make something that does the exact opposite, of all the dumbass things—Rukia, are you okay? You look kind of pale.”_

 _She wasn’t listening anymore though, because…she thought back to Akon showing her the different experiments, handing her a small white pebble and…and then Hisana was demanding that they leave and she couldn’t remember anything other than that, but…but she’d handed the hollow bait back, hadn’t she? She must have…god, she couldn’t have been so stupid, so utterly, mind-numbingly_ stupid _as to_ hold on _to it, right?_

_Only…only now that she thought back she remembered coming up with a small white pebble while searching for change just before the attack happened (and she’d thought it was strange; after all, what would a rock be doing in her pocket?), carelessly tossing it aside without a second thought, and all it would have taken was one person accidentally stepping on it and Renji was giving her a funny look and he was saying something but she could think about at that moment was Hisana facing death (again), alone and in pain and it was all because of her all her fault all her fault all her fault and oh god she thought she was going to puke and Renji was yelling and a nurse was jabbing a needle into her arm—_

“I’m the one who brought the hollow bait there! I’m the reason she c-came and I’m…I’m the reason she s-stayed behind t-to…to—” Rukia hiccupped, cheeks wet with tears. “Do you understand n-now why I c-can’t see her? How c-can I f-face her when…when she’s like this because of m-me? And I…I…”

Strong, steady arms pulled her into a warm embrace as she broke down utterly, staining Eiji’s shihakusho with a mixture of tears, snot, and saliva.

“Hey,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she took giant, wheezing breaths in between choking sobs. “Deep breaths, easy now. That’s it.”

“Why,” she gulped out, sniffling wetly. “Why are you being so _n-nice_ to me?” _When he knew what she did,_ went unspoken.

“Because.” He hesitated. “Because you need me to. And because it looks like you could really use a friend right now.”

“B-but I…but I—”

“Shh,” he hushed her gently. Rukia took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. “Look. Did you mean for this to happen?”

“No!” She answered immediately, hurt. “How could you…how could you say that?””

“Then I don’t blame you for what happened. And I doubt anyone else who knows you will, either,” he said firmly. Rukia huffed, one side of her mouth tilting up into a bitter smile.

“B-Byakuya might.”

“Byakuya…” Eiji hesitated. “My cousin is rational, most of the time. However, when it comes to Hisana—”

“She’ll always come first for him,” Rukia finished softly. She leaned back, feeling a bit embarrassed by her emotional outburst, but decided if Eiji wasn’t going to mention the giant mess of tears and snot she’d left behind, neither would she. “It’s okay, really,” she added, upon seeing the conflicted look on Eiji’s face. “Nee-chan deserves someone who’ll put her first. And if Onii-sensei ever did anything less, I’d kick his ass.” Eiji’s eyes softened.

“You’re a good sister, Rukia-chan.” He hesitated. “Now that I think about it though, it might be for the best if we didn’t tell anyone else about this.” Rukia blinked, startled.

“What? Why?”

“Because no one else needs to know.” Eiji ran a hand through his hair. “Opening a garganta over that town…it was an accident, you and I both know that. However, not everyone might see it that way and…” He pursed his lips. “Well, Seireitei laws are harsh. Confessing to taking the hollow bait and activating it won’t do anyone any good.”

“I understand,” Rukia murmured. “Still, don’t you think—”

“No!” Eiji shouted harshly, causing her to flinch. A flicker of remorse crossed his face before he continued, softening his tone. “No, Rukia-chan. Believe me when I say that it’s for the best if no one knows your part in this. Right now, there’s no concrete evidence connecting you to the attack. It’s better if it stays that way.”

“Alright. If you’re sure,” Rukia whispered. Eiji nodded.

“I am. Promise me that this will stay between us.”

“I promise,” Rukia said solemnly. He smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself over this whole thing, okay? I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know Hisana pretty well over this past year and I _know_ she wouldn’t hold you responsible for her current state.”

“You’re right,” Rukia replied quietly. “She wouldn’t blame me.”

In some aspects, Rukia thought it’d be easier if she did. How strange, that she would find Hisana’s forgiveness harder to face than her anger.

For a moment, they sat together in silence, watching as a gust of wind blew a handful of leaves into the air.

“You know what’s funny?” Rukia spoke up suddenly, leaning back so that her head rested on the ground.

“Mm?”

“All I wanted…all I’ve _ever_ wanted was to get strong enough that Hisana wouldn’t have to constantly worry over me. Strong enough that I could stand at her side; maybe even take care of her for a change. I just…I wanted to be her equal.” She choked on her words, voice cracking slightly. “And now I’m realizing that none of that matters. It doesn’t _matter_ if I’m never as good as her, if I’m not as well-known or as popular or whatever. All that matters is that I get her back.” She rubbed at her eyes furiously. “I know it hasn’t been long but I miss her, Eiji. I miss her _so much.”_

“As do I,” Eiji replied, the faint tightness underlying his voice betraying his worry. “As do I.”

 

* * *

 

“How’s she doing? Has there been any change in her condition?”

“No. But well, no change is better than a bad change,” Kaien replied, rubbing at his eyes.  “It’s kind of you to come visit her, Aizen-fukutaicho.”

“Although it seems she has plenty of visitors, even without my being here,” Aizen replied, smiling faintly. Kaien snorted.

“Figures. Even when the girl’s in a coma, she still has a more active social life than half the general population,” Kaien huffed.

“How long has it been? Two weeks now, if I’m not mistaken?” Aizen asked.

“Mhm. And in that time, she’s gotten visits from half the captains, quite a few lieutenants, seated officers from several different divisions—including the Eleventh of all places—and a couple Academy students.” His own captain, he knew, had stopped by three or four times so far. Hiro and Chiyo, also, had made a point of dropping by the Fourth every day to check on Hisana’s condition.

“Wide range of friends,” Aizen commented, before lowering his voice. “And how is Kuchiki-fukutaicho holding up? Has he left her side at all?”

“Aside from his grandfather or Yoruichi dragging him off to take shower breaks? No,” Kaien replied, voice turning somber.

Not that the healers had been happy about letting him stay past visiting hours. But after polite requests, pleas, demands, yelling, threats, and Unohana hadn’t worked, they’d finally given up and set up an extra futon in the room.

If there was one good thing about Byakuya’s constant presence though, it was that with him there, the room was never crowded. Kaien himself couldn’t stand looking at him for long. There was something heartbreakingly lonely about it, like witnessing a man watch his entire life fall apart around him.

“It’s impressive,” Aizen murmured from beside him, breaking Kaien out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“The effect she’s made in so short a time,” Aizen said quietly.

“She’s a remarkable girl,” Kaien agreed. “In more ways than one.”

“That’s certainly true enough. Not many Academy students manage to activate their shikai in their first year,” Aizen commented.

“Not many Academy students manage to almost get themselves killed _twice_ in their first year,” Kaien said dryly. “I confess, how someone so tiny manages to get themselves into so much trouble is beyond me.”

Academy student with an internship at the _Fourth—_ and here he’d thought that healers had the safest jobs in the entire Gotei 13. So much for that.

“I suppose the key word there is ‘almost,’” Aizen said softly. “It is…unexpected that she survived at all.”

Kaien was silent for a long moment. It was an unspoken question no one had really brought up, in light of Hisana’s comatose state, but the fact remained that she _shouldn’t_ have survived, shouldn’t have lasted two minutes after Hiro left.

Instead, she’d made it back (her body in a state of severe shock and in the process of shutting down, granted, but alive) and most surprisingly—

“She took out those hollows on her own, didn’t she?” Aizen asked intently.

Kaien swallowed, thinking back.

_The first thing he’d noticed was the silence, an almost deafening emptiness made only more jarring when he compared it to the shrieks and sounds of battle he’d heard only moments earlier. As he ran, he couldn’t help but notice it felt like he was speeding through time, watching the leaves around him shift from bright orange and yellow into a decaying brown, the trees turning dull and brittle, the grass underneath his feet yellowing to the color of old hay until the entire forest around him seemed bleached of color._

_He almost ran past her._

_There was no sign of movement, no hint of reiatsu he could sense—in the end, it had only been the glint of her zanpakuto that had caught his attention, and he’d turned to see her lying crumpled on the ground, limp and lifeless like a marionette with its strings cut, the contrast between the paleness of her skin and the inky blackness of her hair making her appear almost skeletal—as devoid of life as the forest surrounding her._

“Yes,” he answered softly, giving his head a slight shake to clear it. “When I found her, she was the only thing alive in a hundred meter radius.”

“Impressive,” Aizen repeated, glancing at the door leading to Hisana’s room before handing Kaien a wrapped gift. “Do me a favor and make sure Yukimura-san gets this when she wakes up, will you? And give her my best.”

“Your faith in her is appreciated,” Kaien said with a tired smile.

“I’m not worried.” The corners of his lips quirked up briefly. “After all I’ve seen…well, she doesn’t seem like the sort of person to let her journey end here.”

 

* * *

 

“So ya finally found the guts ta come visit.” Rukia stiffened at that soft-as-silk voice, the skin at the base of her neck prickling. “I congratulate ya, you exceeded my expectations, Rukia-chan. See, I had a bet goin’ with myself that ya wouldn’t bother comin’ in until Hisana-chan woke up and dragged ya here herself.”

“What are _you_ doing here?” She demanded, taking a wary step back. Ichimaru tilted his head to the side, smile coldly amused.

“Why, I can’t come visit a friend?” He pressed a hand to his chest, lips turning down into a pout. “How cruel of you, Rukia-chan.”

“You’re not her friend,” Rukia said automatically. She narrowed her eyes. “She told me about you. Said that you’re dangerous, unpredictable, that you mess with peoples’ h-heads—” She cursed mentally as she stuttered on the last word, quickly shoving her hands into her pockets so that Ichimaru wouldn’t see them shake. 

“Really? She said all that? I had no idea she thought so highly of me,” Ichimaru said, seeming almost touched for a moment. “But why all the anger on your part? We were getting along so well when we last spoke.” He glanced at her. “You could certainly learn a lesson or two from your past self, ya were much more polite then.” His smirk widened as he suddenly increased the force of his reiatsu, causing Rukia’s knees to buckle slightly. “Go on now, give me a bow…that’s it, there’s a good girl—”

 Rukia looked away in a futile attempt to hide her face from him, blinking humiliated tears out of her eyes. Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot.

“You’re a _freak,_ you know that?” She spat out, once she’d recovered her composure. “And if you don’t leave right now, I’ll…I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Ichimaru asked, tilting his head to the side. “Tell on me? Go ahead—you’re good at that, aren’t you? Big meanie Ichimaru Gin, intruding on your precious time with your sister…although given that this is the first time in three weeks you’ve even bothered to come see her in person, I don’t know how precious you really find it.”

“She wouldn’t want you here,” Rukia hissed.

“Oh, really?” He asked dubiously. “Don’t you think, my dear Rukia-chan, that if Hisana _truly_ wanted me out of her life, that she’d already have found a way to do so?”

Rukia had no answer to that.

“Don’t worry,” Ichimaru added. “I won’t take up much more of your time. After all, I know you’re on a bit of a time limit here; Shihouin-taicho may have dragged Kuchiki out of here for some fresh air, but that won’t last for long. And as I understand, your relationship is a bit rocky right now, isn’t it?”

“That’s none of your business,” Rukia muttered, looking away.

“Fair enough,” Ichimaru shrugged. “I’ll admit, I find family drama dreadfully dull.” Rukia stiffened as he approached Hisana’s bed, leaning down to gently press one hand against her throat.

“What are you doing?” She asked, voice rising in alarm. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”

“Relax. I have no intention of harming her,” Ichimaru replied dismissively. “She’d be no fun to me broken.”

Rukia clenched her jaw as Ichimaru leaned in closer, his eyelids flickering open to reveal pale blue.

“So fragile,” he murmured as he stroked her pulse point with his thumb.

“She’s not weak,” Rukia snapped, her heart beating anxiously.

“Never said she was. You can be the strongest person in the world, and still be fragile,” he said calmly. “With a person like Hisana, if ya wanna break them, ya don’t face them head on. It’s like breaking tempered glass. You find their weak points, apply just a bit of pressure, and—” His grip tightened for the briefest of moments. “—you wait for them to shatter.”

One corner of his lips quirked up as he stepped back, releasing his hold. Rukia swallowed, tasting blood in her mouth (had she been chewing on the inside of her cheek again? She really needed to break that habit) and looked down so that he wouldn’t see her bottom lip trembling.

 _I—I wouldn’t have been able to do anything,_ she thought to herself numbly. _If he’d chosen to do anything, anything at all, I would’ve been helpless to stop him._

“Luckily, a soul is more flexible than glass,” Ichimaru continued, as if he hadn’t just threatened to strangle Rukia’s sister in her bed. “They’re malleable, susceptible to change. To toughen them, all you have to do find the weak spots in a person’s life and remove them. Either by ironing them out so that they’re as strong as the rest of the soul—” He glanced down at Rukia, eyes curving up into twin crescents. “—or, if need be, by cutting them out entirely. Either way, any weaknesses should be eliminated.” He tilted his head, giving her a meaningful stare. “Don’t you agree, Rukia-chan?”

“I—” Rukia’s mouth was dry. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m glad to see we understand each other,” Ichimaru said cheerfully. He gripped her shoulder with one hand, leaning down so that his lips were right by her ear.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rukia-chan. I won’t be patient forever.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re sure this is going to work?” Renji whispered.

“I don’t see why not. It worked for Hisana,” Rukia whispered back.

“Yeah, but Hisana’s insane.” Rukia punched him in the arm. “What? She willingly wakes up at five in the morning after going to bed at two, she calls Oni-sensei _hime,_ she plays with poisonous spiders for fun, and she thinks Kusajishi-fukutaicho is adorable and sweet instead of, you know, a nightmare dressed up in pink. That counts as insane in my book.”

“Kusajishi-fukutaicho _is_ pretty cute,” Rukia mused.

“Not when she’s yanking on your hair during a game of ‘Let’s Ride Renji the Red-Haired Pony!’, she ain’t,” Renji groused, rubbing at his scalp. “But anyway, trying to bribe a clan head with _fish?_ That’s pretty out there.”

Rukia frowned, looking at the assortment of sashimi plates in front of her.

“You think? But nee-chan told me that she and Shihouin-taicho became friends after she offered her fish,” Rukia explained. "So I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“Figured what couldn’t hurt?” A voice came from behind them, causing Rukia to yelp and Renji’s voice to abruptly shoot up two octaves.

“S-Shihouin-t-t-t-taicho!” Rukia stuttered, after she’d recovered from her minor heart attack. “Uh…this is for you!” She added, thrusting a plate of fresh salmon out for the Second Division Captain’s inspection.

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused.

“Thank you. I have some friends who I’m sure will appreciate this,” she said, taking the plate from her. “Now what is this about? Originally, I wasn’t sure if I was going to grant your request for an appointment, but you’ve made me curious.”

“Well,” Renji coughed awkwardly, his voice still slightly higher than normal. His face was also turning an abnormal shade of red, Rukia couldn’t help but notice. “I was just, uh, I just came along for, um, moral support so uh, I guess if you’re all…morally-supported Rukia, then I’ll just…be leaving.”

“So soon, Abarai-kun?” Yoruichi asked, and yes, there was a definite glint of amusement in those tawny eyes now. “And after bringing me such a lovely gift, too. Are you sure there’s nothing I can… _offer_ you in return?”

“Nope, nothing!” Renji shook his head frantically, desperately looking anywhere but at the violet-haired captain in front of him. “So, um, I’ll just be going now, good luck Rukia, I’llseeyoulater!”

With that, he bolted out the Second Division headquarters like his life depended on it. Rukia just shook her head in disbelief. The last time she’d seen him run that fast, he’d just found out that Yakushi’s Barbeque was having a two hour long half-off special.

“Well now, what can I do for you, Rukia-chan?” Rukia blinked, turning her attention back to where Yoruichi was looking at her curiously.

“Oh! Yeah, uh,” Rukia took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing the speech she’d spent all week working on. “Shihouin-taicho. I hope that you will hear me out and consider my request. Over the course of the past month I have been forced to come face-to-face with my weaknesses and I see that I have much to learn in regards to the shinigami arts. Although my kido is adequate, my class ranking is not yet at where I’d like it to be. I hope that with—”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Yoruichi sighed. “Forget the formalities Rukia-chan, I promise I won’t be offended.” She stared at Rukia levelly. “Just answer this question: why did you come here today?”

“To ask you to train me,” Rukia blurted out before slapping both hands over her mouth. Damn…how did she do that? No wonder Shihouin Yoruichi was head of the Omnitsukido, if all she needed in order to get people to confess was _look_ at them. “Erm…I mean, not _you,_ of course! Although having you train me would be totally awesome…but I would never expect you to! Anyone, really…and, uh, I’d be willing to do chores around here as repayment! I’m really good at cleaning,” she said earnestly. “And I’ll do other stuff too! Like cook and do laundry and—”

“You want an internship here,” Yoruichi said flatly. Rukia bowed her head.

“It doesn’t have to be as formal as all that. But I want to get stronger and I feel like this is the best place to do that,” she said honestly.

“And why should we take you?” Yoruichi asked, voice unreadable. “The Second Division, as I’m sure you know, is closely tied to the Omnitsukido. And while your skills are certainly decent for your age, we are a highly competitive squad. Most of our members were groomed specifically for their positions from birth, and of the recruits we _do_ take from the Academy, it’s been years since we’ve taken anyone below First Class. Even if all you want is a few lessons, why should we invest our time in you?”

Rukia swallowed, closing her eyes.

“The truth is, I don’t have a good answer for you,” she said quietly. “I…I’m not that good at hohou and my hakuda is better but there are still a lot of people in my class better than me. And maybe I’ll never be the best, no matter how hard I work. But I _can_ promise that I’ll work harder at this than I’ve ever worked at anything else in my life and I won’t give up, no matter what.”

“Mm,” Yoruichi mused. “You claim to have so much resolve, but I have to ask—why the Second? You must know that our squad isn’t exactly the best fit for you,” she pointed out. “And thanks to your sister, you have plenty of connections in other divisions. The 6th, the 11th, the 13th…and those are just the obvious ones.”

Rukia’s eyes flashed, hands clenching into fists.

“That won’t work!” She shouted. “I need…I need someone who won’t hesitate to hurt me.”

“Ah. I see.” Yoruichi’s tone softened with understanding. When she spoke again, her gaze was sympathetic. “Rukia-chan, if it’s punishment you’re looking for, then I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. I won’t help you hurt yourself.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” Rukia cut herself off, frustrated. “I’m not looking for punishment. Really, I’m not,” she added, at Yoruichi’s dubious look. If that was the case, all she had to do was march down to the 5th and willingly spend time in Ichimaru Gin’s presence. “But back when that garganta opened and those hollows started spilling out, I felt _helpless,_ okay? I mean, I’ve fought against hollows before, but this was...this was different. This was _real._ I wasn’t safe and these opponents weren’t going to stop if I got hurt and I…I froze. _”_

She looked down, biting her lip. “I felt so _stupid_ and _slow_ and when Hisana came, I realized I was just…holding her down. And when those spikes came shooting towards me, I-I couldn’t even try dodging because by the time I registered them, it was already too late and—” She broke off, sniffling. “And the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the Fourth and Renji’s telling me that Hisana’s in a c-coma. That we h-had to leave her behind to _d-die_ because she didn’t have enough reiatsu to save me _and_ protect h-herself.” Rukia straightened her back, chin jerking up. “My sister is in a _coma_ because of me. Do you understand what that’s like? Hisana almost _died_ because I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough. That…that can’t happen again.”

She bowed her head, lowering herself to her knees.

“Please, Shihouin-sama,” she breathed out. It took effort to keep her voice from shaking. “Please, I need to get stronger but I don’t know how to do it on my own, and I’m begging you, please—”

Gentle hands tilted her chin up and through blurry eyes, Rukia saw Yoruichi pull out a handkerchief.

“Stand up,” she ordered, handing Rukia the handkerchief. “First rule of Squad Two, Rukia-chan. Never beg. Second rule? Never show weakness, unless it benefits you.”

Rukia scrambled to her feet, eyes wide. “Shihouin-taicho…?”

Yoruichi smiled faintly at her before straightening, turning her attention to one of the masked Omnitsukido members behind her.

“Soi-fon? Come over here,” she called out. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

 

* * *

_“Yukimura-chan? Your presence is required at the Fourth.”_

_“What for?”_

_“Your sister. She’s waking up.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …so how many of you saw that part with Soi-fon coming?
> 
> Also Gin, pls. That scene was pretty much him going “Right now you’re doing nothing but holding her back :) and you don’t deserve to be called her sister :) so unless you shape up to the point where you can no longer be used against her :) :) or to the point where she no longer has to rescue you every time you fuck up :) I, being a Very Good Friend :) will take care of Hisana’s problem (i.e. you) for her :) :) :) by getting rid of you permanently :) also just for shits and giggles I will casually threaten Hisana’s life over the course of this conversation :) :) just to prove to you how utterly helpless you are :) :) :) :) :)
> 
> Next chapter: Hisana wakes up! And you get to find out what the second half of her shikai ability actually is, lol.
> 
> P.S. Please stop asking me if this story is abandoned—as previously mentioned, I currently have every intention of finishing this. IF I ever decide otherwise, I will make sure to inform all of you. Even if I haven’t updated in six months or a year or 10 years, unless explicitly stated, this story is still going.


	33. Chapter 33

“Is she gonna sleep for a hundred years?” Ganju asked in a hushed whisper. In the silence of the hospital room though, Kaien could hear him as clearly as if he’d shouted.

“What makes you say that?” Kaien asked, glancing over at where Byakuya was leafing through a book.

“’Cause that’s how it goes in the story,” Ganju explained. “The princess is put under a curse and sleeps for a hundred years. That’s what Hisana-nee-chan told me anyway, and Hisana-nee-chan knows _everything_.”

“Not everything,” Kaien murmured under his breath. Not how to keep herself out of trouble, for one. He then winced as Ganju pulled on his hair impatiently to get his attention back.

“How does the princess wake up then? A hundred years is a long time to sleep.”

“Her prince finds her and kisses her,” Ganju explained. Kaien stared.

“That’s it? A kiss?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What kind of stories has Yukimura been telling you, anyway?”

“Not just _any_ kiss,” Ganju scowled. “True love’s kiss. That’s the only way to break the spell.” He peered over at Byakuya speculatively. Kaien straightened up in alarm, but before he could say anything, Ganju beat him to it.

“You should kiss her, Byakuya-nii,” he said challengingly. “If you _really_ love her, that should wake her up.”

“Ah,” Kaien said, feeling a faint sense of impending doom as he saw Byakuya’s shoulders stiffen. “Please forgive my brother, Kuchiki-fukutaicho, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about—”

“I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d given it a try,” a new voice interjected, tired from sleep and rough from disuse but unmistakable all the same.

“Hisana!”

Byakuya was at her side before Kaien could blink—honestly, all they’d need to do to get Byakuya to finally win in a race against Yoruichi was put Hisana on the other side of the finish line—everything and everyone else in the room completely forgotten.

“Hey Byakuya. Sorry I stood you up for dinner,” Hisana said, one corner of her mouth tugging up into a slight smile. Byakuya let out a choked laugh and pulled her into his arms with such raw relief written into every line of his body that Kaien had to look away.

“I’ll, um, get you some water. I’m sure you must be thirsty,” he said awkwardly. At that, Hisana pulled back from Byakuya’s embrace, although Kaien noticed she kept a firm grip on his arm.

“That would be appreciated, thank you,” she nodded before hesitating. “The kids? I thought I sensed them come by a few times, but…I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or—”

“Relax. They’re completely fine, thanks to you,” he replied, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her. “Abarai didn’t have much wrong with him to begin with, and Rukia’s made a full recovery. You were the one we had to worry about.” He paused. “You know, Yukimura, when I told you to get more sleep, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Shiba-fukutaicho—” Byakuya began, glaring.

“Byakuya,” Hisana interrupted gently, causing the Kuchiki heir to subside immediately. Kaien suppressed a smile with some difficulty. If Byakuya’s ten-week-long vigil by her side hadn’t already convinced him that he adored her with every fiber of his being, this would have.

“I believe I have you to thank for bringing me back, Shiba-fukutaicho?” She said politely. “And for keeping Byakuya company during my state of unconsciousness as well, it appears. I appreciate it—I can’t imagine sitting at my bedside, waiting for me to wake up was the most entertaining of tasks for him.”

“There is nowhere else I’d rather have been,” Byakuya said fiercely. “And I will always, _always_ wait for you.” Hisana looked at him then, something like regret on her face. Conflicted, worried, and…a little sad, Kaien thought.

“I visited too!” Ganju piped up, breaking the tension. Hisana’s expression lightened, and she laughed a little.

“So you did, Ganju-kun. Thank you as well,” she said, smiling fondly. “I’m wondering if I can trouble you with one more task, though. Can you go outside and tell Unohana-taicho I’m awake?”

Ganju nodded firmly, a determined expression on his face as he ran outside.

“I’ll go as well, tell your siblings that you’ve awakened,” Kaien said with a slight smile. “Give you two some privacy.”

“Did anything major happen while I was unconscious?” She called out after him. He paused.

“Let’s just say it’s good to have you back, Yukimura.”

 

* * *

 

“Rukia, if you don’t head through that door, I’m gonna pick you up and throw you through it,” Renji said irritably, trying to tug her forwards.

“Just…just give me a moment,” Rukia said, fidgeting anxiously. “I’m trying to work out what to say.”

“You’ve had two months to figure out what to say!” Renji scrunched up his eyebrows in frustration. “Look, it’s easy. How about ‘hello Hisana, it’s so great to see you awake, I’m glad you’re okay’?”

“Sure, that’s easy for _you_ to say,” Rukia muttered under her breath. He wasn’t the one who’d messed up. He wasn’t the one Hisana had almost _died_ for.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not waiting any longer,” Renji grumbled. Then, ignoring Rukia’s protests, he promptly threw the door open and marched in.

“Hisana-nee-san, I love you but if you ever scare me like that again I’m gonna kill you myself,” he declared, and then froze as he took in the other occupants of the room.

“Kuchiki-taicho! Unohana-taicho! I-I was…I mean…I was just…” He stammered as Rukia buried her face in her hands and absently wondered if it was too late to ditch the idiot to his fate and make a run for it.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my patients, Abarai-kun,” Unohana said serenely. “Especially this one. I’ve invested quite a bit of time and effort into her, and I wouldn’t want my hard work to be wasted.”

“Taicho, don’t tease the poor kid,” Hisana said lightly, the sound of her voice causing Rukia to jump. She swallowed, looking down at the ground. It’d been so _long_ , Rukia had started to think that—

 “N-nee-chan,” she stuttered. The rest of her words died in her throat as she looked around at Unohana’s polite smile, at Kuchiki Ginrei’s stern expression…at Byakuya’s impassive face, his cold eyes.

“Unohana-taicho, Kuchiki-taicho, forgive my disrespect but I was wondering if I could have a moment alone with my siblings?” Rukia turned around to see Hisana studying her intently. “Byakuya, darling, you too.”

“Hisana—” Byakuya opened his mouth to protest.

“It’ll only be for a moment,” she said gently. “Afterwards I’ll be all yours, I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he said, brushing Hisana’s hair away from her face. Towards Renji and her, he gave only a stiff nod in their direction before exiting the room.

“Are you alright?” Hisana asked, glancing at her in concern. “You were injured. I remember that much.” There was a worryingly distant look in her eyes. “It was okay though, because Hiro…Hiro took you away, both of you. Back to safety, away from the—” She cut herself off abruptly. “I apologize, I’m still trying to make sense of my memories. Renji, Rukia, since I obviously have not been up to much lately, why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve been do—”

“Aren’t you angry at me?” Rukia burst out, unable to hold it back any longer. Hisana paused and looked at her in puzzlement.

“Rukia, sweetheart, why would I be angry at you?”

“Because it’s my fault you got hurt. It’s my fault you ended up in a coma and that you almost died and…and…” Tears began to sting her eyes and Rukia sniffled, hating that she wasn’t strong enough to do this _one thing_ without crying. “I swear that it won’t happen again, though.” She promised after taking a moment to compose herself. “I’ll…I’ll get stronger and you won’t ever end up in danger because of me again, and I know that doesn’t mean much right now but I’ve been working at it every day and—”

“Rukia, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Hisana said exasperatedly.

“Told you so,” Renji muttered from behind her. Rukia pretended not to hear him.

“The first part, not the part about you getting stronger,” Hisana continued, her voice rising. “Coming to find you, fighting for you, that was _my_ choice so don’t you dare blame yourself—”

“If it weren’t for me, none of this ever would have happened!” Rukia cried out.

“Did you knock me into a coma?” Hisana asked fiercely. “Did you force me to stay behind? Did you _mean_ for any of this to happen? Even if you summoned all those hollows yourself—” Rukia flinched, and she thanked every god there was out there that Hisana was too agitated to notice. “It wouldn’t be your fault because I _chose_ to do it. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Rukia mumbled, voice subdued. Didn’t mean she agreed with it, but when Hisana was in this state, arguing wasn’t going to do her any good anyway.

“Good. Now repeat after me: I am in no way responsible for my older sister’s wellbeing,” Hisana said firmly. “And say it like you believe it.”

“I am in no way responsible for my older sister’s wellbeing,” Rukia repeated in a monotone.

“Now say, ‘I am a brilliant young shinigami-in-training and I just need to be patient with myself’,” Hisana commanded. “Renji, you too.”

“Hisana-nee-san!” Renji complained before subsiding at Hisana’s glare. Sullenly, he complied.

“Nicely done, both of you. ‘I have worked hard and I should be proud of myself.’”

“I have worked hard and I should be proud of myself,” Rukia and Renji chorused in unison. Rukia didn’t quite roll her eyes but it was a near thing.

“And finally, ‘I will never complain about Hisana’s cooking ever again and I promise to eat all my vegetables from now until the end of time.’”

“I will never—oi!” Renji shouted indignantly.

“So close,” Hisana sighed as Rukia smothered her giggles behind one hand.

It was the first time she’d laughed in over two months, she realized. She’d missed it.

Her laughter trailed off when she noticed Hisana staring at her, her forehead slightly furrowed.

“What?” She asked defensively.

“You’ve lost weight,” Hisana said. Her frown deepened as she took a closer look at Rukia. “And you’ve been fighting a lot lately. Based on the way you’re standing, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were covered in bruises.” There was a glimmer of true anger in her eyes now. “What the hell has Byakuya been doing? He should’ve been taking better care of you.”

Renji snorted.

“Oni-sensei? As if he’s noticed. As if he _cares,”_ he spat. “He hasn’t even been able to _look_ at her ever since—”

“Renji, stop.” Rukia interjected. “Onii-sensei…Byakuya’s been dealing with a lot, lately. And besides, it’s not his responsibility to look after me.”

“Right,” Renji said bitingly. “That falls to your new _Soi-fon-senpai_ , doesn’t it?”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Rukia snapped. “What’s your problem, anyway? You were perfectly fine with the idea of me seeking out training—”

“That was before I saw the way she treats you,” Renji retorted. “The way they all treat you, the way they all treat _each other,_ like they wouldn’t care if a comrade died right there in front of them so long as—”

“Wait a minute,” Hisana interrupted sharply. “ _Soi-fon?_ Of the Omnitsukido? Yoruichi’s protégé?”

“You know her?” Renji asked, surprised.

“ _Of_ her. You can’t know Yoruichi and not know of Soi-fon,” Hisana murmured. She looked at Rukia, an odd expression on her face.

“Why?” She asked blankly. “Why the Second, of all places?”

“Why not?” Rukia challenged.

“Because—” Hisana sighed. “You should know by now that each division has their own values, what they deem most important. For the Eleventh, it’s honor and strength in battle. For the Fourth, it’s peace and preserving life. In the Second, they place order above all else and they will kill anyone they deem a threat to it.” She looked Rukia in the eye. “There’s no denying that the Second Division is one of the strongest squads—and undoubtedly the most dangerous. But is that the kind of strength you wish to have, imouto?”

Rukia was quiet for a moment.

“No,” she admitted finally. “It’s not. But Shihouin-taicho is the leader of the Second, and yet I know she’d do anything for those she cares about—even if it means betraying the order she stands for. And the Sixth Division is known for valuing duty and tradition, and yet—”

“And yet, here I am. A commoner dating Kuchiki Byakuya himself,” Hisana finished wryly. “I suppose you have a point. People aren’t defined by the division they’re in.” She paused. “I promised myself a long time ago that I’d let you live your own life. Make your own _choices_ , even if I didn’t agree with them.” She reached out and grasped Rukia’s hand. “I won’t protest your choice to seek training at the Second. If you choose to join them later on, I won’t protest that either, if that’s what you truly want. I just have one question,” Hisana said seriously. “Are you doing this for yourself or for my sake?”

“Mine,” Rukia said without hesitation. “You always said that you were proud of me, nee-chan, and I believe that. But the only way _I’m_ going to be proud of me is if I do this.”

Ichimaru Gin’s words echoed through her head. _To toughen a soul, all you have to do is find the weak spots in a person’s life and remove them. Either by ironing them out so that they’re as strong as the rest of the soul or, if need be, by cutting them out entirely._

Things couldn’t remain the same way they were now, that was for sure. If that happened, it was only a matter of time before Hisana ended up hurt again, or worse, trying to protect her. But Rukia was too selfish to remove herself from Hisana’s life entirely and knowing Hisana, it wouldn’t work anyway. So that left only one alternative, really.

She didn’t need to become as strong as Onii-sensei with his flower petals of doom or Shiba-fukutaicho with his waves of doom or Ichimaru with his aura of doom. But she wasn’t going to be a weakness anymore.

And if she needed to join the most ruthless squad in order to reach that goal, then so be it.

 

* * *

 

“Renji tells me you’ve been avoiding Rukia lately,” Hisana said quietly as he came in, her face turned towards the window. Byakuya stiffened before forcing himself to relax.

“Is that so?” He asked carefully.

“I’m not angry at you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said, turning to look at him. “Don’t get me wrong—I was, at first. Furious, actually. But now…” Her eyes were sad. “I’ve hurt you immensely, haven’t I?”

Byakuya was silent for a moment.

“I knew from the start that you would always place Rukia first. You’ve raised her since she was an infant. She may not view you as a mother, but you view her as your child…and there’s no greater love than that a mother feels towards her children. Of course her safety would be your biggest priority,” he said quietly.

“Then why?” Hisana asked agitatedly. “Why cut yourself off from her, why treat her so coldly? You can’t possibly blame her for what—”

“Of course not. I don’t blame her for the hollow attack, and I certainly don’t blame her for what happened to you,” Byakuya cut her off sharply. “That doesn’t change the fact that…that—”

“That what?” Hisana asked, narrowing her eyes.

“That every time I looked at her face, I was reminded of the fact that _she_ was alive and well and I didn’t know if _you_ were ever going to wake up again,” Byakuya replied tersely. “Do you think that this has been _easy_ for me? Do you even _know…_ do you have any idea how much you—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. “And the fact that after all you’ve done for her, after all you’ve sacrificed for her, she couldn’t even bring herself to visit, to fulfill the _minimal_ familial duties expected of her—”

“She’s a child!” Hisana cried out. “And, as you so astutely pointed out, I was about as animated as a corpse at the time. I don’t blame her for not wanting to see me in that state, why should you?”

“Had it been her on the hospital bed instead, you would have stopped at nothing to stay by her side,” Byakuya retorted.

“Rukia is not me,” Hisana said quietly. “And it will do neither of us any good to compare us to each other.”

“….I admit my treatment towards her may have been unfair,” Byakuya stated after a stilted silence. “I let my emotions get the better of me, and I treated her unkindly. She deserves better than that.”

“You deserve better too,” Hisana said, her voice abruptly tired. “You may have given her a few lessons here and there, but ultimately, it’s not your responsibility to look after her. It’s mine. I’d just hoped that, well, in the event of my…absence, you two might find a source of support in each other.”

“Don’t leave, and we won’t need a source of support,” Byakuya said evenly.

“I can’t guarantee that,” Hisana said softly. “Being a shinigami is a dangerous profession. None of us can _guarantee_ anything.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You are a healer,” Byakuya disagreed, taking both her hands in his. She was still worryingly thin, and Byakuya made a mental note to talk to the chefs in the Kuchiki manor about coming up with a specialized meal plan. “Leave the fighting to others. After all, if you are injured, who will be there to heal everyone else? Who will be there to heal you?”

“And yet there are times in which if I _don’t_ fight, there will be no one left to heal,” Hisana countered. She tilted her chin up, looking at him seriously. “I can’t sit behind while those I love are in danger, Byakuya. That’s not who I am.”

“I know,” Byakuya said, voice low. “And I won’t stop you from trying to save the world, one life at a time.” He paused, before smiled wryly. “It’s only too bad you don’t value yourself as much as I do. If you did, you’d be the most selfish, narcissistic person alive and I’d never have to worry about you running headfirst into danger again.”

“If I was the most selfish, narcissistic person alive, you’d never have fallen in love with me,” Hisana pointed out.

“Oh, I think you underestimate how hopelessly obsessed I was with you, even at the very beginning,” Byakuya raised her hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “You could have walked up to me and declared that you were the most amazing person I was ever going to meet, and I’d have found myself hard-pressed to argue.”

Hisana’s cheeks turned pink.

“You’re full of it but I’m too tired to argue right now,” she grumbled, not quite looking him in the eye. “For the record though, if my ego ever becomes too big to fit through the door, know that it was _entirely_ your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” Byakuya said, amused.

“As you should,” Hisana grinned, before tilting her head to get a better look at him. Her smile faded a little. “Something’s still bothering you.”

“You’re awake. You’re here and with me, and Unohana-taicho says your health is recovering nicely. What could be bothering me?” Byakuya asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“I don’t know. All I know is that _something_ is,” Hisana said, refusing to be distracted. “Whatever it is, Byakuya, you can tell me. You know that.”

The corner of his lips quirked up humorlessly.

“You always were able to see right through me,” he murmured under his breath. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work both ways.

“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” Hisana said, backtracking a little. “It’s just…I can’t stand to see you upset. If there’s anything I can do…if there’s any way I can help…”

“There is one thing I’d like to know. And please, answer me honestly,” Byakuya said after a long moment.

“Of course. Anything,” Hisana promised earnestly.

“Unohana-taicho…Unohana-taicho said something interesting to me, while you were…in recovery,” Byakuya said after a long pause. “She said that you’d figured out a way to access your emergency reiryoku reserves in battle.”

“I did, yes,” Hisana said after a brief hesitation.

“I know…I know that you’d do anything for Rukia. You’d kill for her, you’d die for her. But—” He took a deep breath. “When you saw her fall, when you made the decision to stay behind…were you intending on coming back?” Hisana pursed her lips.

“Against those odds…I didn’t expect to live, no,” she said slowly. Byakuya closed his eyes.

“That wasn’t what I asked, Hisana.”

Hisana bit her lip and turned to look at the flowers on the bedside table next to her.

“If you’re asking whether I intended to commit suicide…no. Death was never my end goal. Even…” She swallowed, her voice shaking slightly. “Even if Rukia hadn’t made it…I can’t say I could’ve lived with myself afterwards, but I would have _tried_ , Byakuya, I promise you that. For you, for the people who need me and care about me, I would have tried.”

“Do you truly mean that? Because Unohana-taicho told me that most of the damage done to your body was self-inflicted,” Byakuya said, his voice coming out more harshly than intended. “You don’t do that to yourself unless you’ve already given up hope.”

“You’re right.” Hisana said, avoiding his gaze. “I may not have been trying to die, but I wasn’t exactly trying to live either. I couldn’t…I couldn’t afford to think about things like that at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” Byakuya asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. She smiled, a little bitterly.

“Do you know how Tenshi no Tsubasa’s ability works, Byakuya?” She asked softly. “You should know by now that there is always a price to pay for power. My shikai—at its core, it’s a gamble. You see, when I activate its defensive ability, for a short time, I’m as close to unkillable as it’s humanly possible for me to get. In exchange, I sacrifice time. I can train, I can grow stronger, but in a battle of attrition, it’s almost guaranteed that I’ll come out on the losing side.” She glanced at him. “Now, while Tenshi no Tsubasa’s strength is normally focused inwards, it is possible to turn that power outwards as well. And it’ll make me stronger…it’ll give me the ability to take down opponents I’d normally never be able to touch—”

“But the price will be higher as well,” Byakuya finished. Taking down dozens upon dozens of hollows singlehandedly…that wasn’t a task for an Academy student or even a seated officer. No, that was a task for a lieutenant, _in shikai._ “If your defensive ability sacrifices time…what does your offensive ability give up?”

“It sacrifices…” She paused, biting her lip. “It sacrifices anything that stands in the way of my goal. In that state, I can’t feel pain. Colors are muted. Relationships, feelings, none of that matters anymore. Nothing exists for me except the person I’m trying to kill—I’d go through complete strangers if they stood in my way, cut down friends, family, _children_ if they tried to stop me _._ I…temporarily give up my humanity, I guess you could say. _”_ There was a distant expression on her face now, as she reached out to caress the blossoms next to her. “There’s no going back either, no changing my mind. You see, I make an ultimatum with myself. From the moment I activate Tenshi no Tsubasa’s offensive ability, either I succeed and manage to kill my target, or—”

Byakuya watched as Hisana’s fingers began to glow with a faint, incandescent green light. There was something…off about it, how it was just a shade darker than healing kido should be, the way it flickered strangely. Almost like flames.

Under her touch, the petals began to wither.

“—or I’m drained entirely of spiritual energy and I die,” she finished. She turned back to Byakuya. “I know…I know that there’s no guarantee I’ll always manage to protect Rukia. What happened a few months ago proved that much. But I can damn well make sure that anyone who hurts her regrets it.”

“You—” Byakuya trailed off, at a loss for words. There was a resoluteness in her expression, a clarity that bordered on insanity. He wondered what it said about him that he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“I’d do the same for you, you know,” Hisana said, eyes dark. “If anyone ever touched you…I’d go through armies, civilizations, even gods to get at whoever hurt you.” She tilted her head to the side, watching him intently. “Does that frighten you, Byakuya?”

Byakuya couldn’t answer her immediately, his face strangely flushed. He felt paralyzed under her gaze, like a butterfly pinned to a wall.

“This is how I love. Can you handle that?” Hisana continued, looking at him with burning eyes. _Can you handle me?_

Without quite thinking about it, he stood up. She let out a startled gasp as he reached out to grasp her chin firmly with one hand.

“After all this time,” he said roughly, leaning down to press his lips against hers, hard. “You still need to ask that question?”

She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“You underestimate how much of a handful I can be,” she warned.

“Then it’s a good thing I have two hands,” he replied firmly. “You’re going to have to try harder than that to scare me off.”

She smiled, her expression softening.  

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “More than you know.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” he breathed out. He replayed her words inside his head.

_If anyone ever touched you…I’d fight armies, civilizations, even gods to get at whoever hurt you._

He may not be able to read her as well as she was capable of reading him but in this, at least, he understood her perfectly.

 

* * *

 

“You look better,” Kaien observed as he stepped into Hisana’s room.

“You mean I look marginally less awful than before,” Hisana said wryly. “Still, Unohana-taicho says I should be able to leave after a few more days of bedrest. I’d disagree, but the one time I tried leaving, I got halfway down the hallway before nearly passing out.”

“You hypocrite. Aren’t you the one always scolding people for not listening to medical advice?” Kaien accused.

“That’s different,” Hisana argued. “I scolded them for not listening to _my_ medical advice. I, for one, have never ignored my own medical advice.”

“Well, don’t worry. Just a few more days of boredom and you’ll be free,” Kaien grinned. “At least you’ve been keeping busy.” He nodded at the massive gift basket in Hisana’s hands. “And you’ve still got like, what, a dozen more to unwrap? Little Miss Popular, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” Hisana rolled her eyes. “Most of them are from your captain.”

“Ah,” Kaien laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. Now that he took a closer look, a lot of the presents did seem to have Ukitake-taicho’s personal touch. Meaning, they were marketed towards very small children and contained excessive amounts of sugar. “I’ll tell him to stop?”

“Don’t. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings and it was a very sweet gesture on his part,” Hisana sighed. “Besides, Rukia likes them.”

“Taicho will be delighted to hear that,” Kaien grinned. “Speaking of presents though, Isshin-ji wanted me to pass along his thanks.”

“Ah. He liked the gift I got him then?” Hisana asked, straightening up. “I figured getting him a present was the least I could do after missing his birthday party.”

“Liked it? He was _hooked_ after the first page _,”_ Kaien snorted. “I don’t think I’ve seen him voluntarily read a book in years.”

“I’m glad,” Hisana said, a pleased smile on her lips.

“I have to ask though,” Kaien said, eyeing her speculatively. “What inspired you to get him a romance novel, of all things?” And what a romance novel it had been. Kaien had flipped through it—it was some ridiculously sappy shit about a god falling in love with a human and breaking all the rules of heaven just so he could be with her.

“It’s a good book. And besides,” she said, an odd glint in her eyes. “It seemed like his kind of story.”

“You haven’t even met him,” Kaien pointed out, puzzled.

Her lips curled up into the faintest smirk.

“Call it a gut feeling,” she replied, before she finally finished unwrapping the gift basket in her lap. Her expression immediately brightened.

“Oh, a walkie-talkie!” She said enthusiastically, holding up what looked like two small boxes.

“A what?” Kaien asked, confused.

“A walkie-talkie. I gave Urahara-taicho the idea _months_ ago and he’s finally gotten around to completing it,” she explained. “You use them to communicate across large distances. The basic idea is, you speak into one device and the person holding the other walkie-talkie can hear you, even if you’re across the city from them. There should also be a function to record messages,” she said, fiddling around with the…magic communication box. “Man, I can’t wait to test this out. This is _so_ much more convenient than hell-butterflies. I have to hand it to him, Urahara-taicho gives the best ‘sorry-one-of-our-inventions-almost-killed-you’ gifts.”

“I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. Urahara-taicho never gives _me_ gifts,” Kaien teased. “And he’s definitely come close to blowing me up a few times.” Hazards of being next-door-neighbors with the Twelfth, he supposed.

He blinked as Hisana shoved her gift basket at him.

“Here, feel free to look around. Anything you like, it’s yours,” she said earnestly. Kaien laughed slightly, gently handing the basket back to her.

“I couldn’t. These are for you,” he replied. “I’d feel guilty taking anything.”

“What’s there to feel guilty about?” Hisana asked, confused. “It’s just a little sharing between friends. And besides, I haven’t properly thanked you for lugging my unconscious body back yet. Or for looking after Byakuya.”

“Stop. There’s no need for that,” Kaien said, waving her off. “I would’ve done as much for any fellow shinigami. Or any friend.” He paused. “Just…next time, trust me enough to come to me first before you go running off towards a horde of hollows, okay? Byakuya may have been too far away to reach in a hurry, but _me…_ you were in the 13th Division headquarters, for gods’ sake.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Both Ukitake-taicho and I would have helped you. Had we known it was your siblings out there, we would have dropped all protocol to help you.”

“I didn’t think—” Hisana began in a small voice.

“You’re right. You didn’t,” Kaien agreed, voice hard. Hisana didn’t say anything for a long moment. When she finally looked up again, there was an odd smile on her face.

“You say that you would’ve helped me, that you would have broken the rules to get to Rukia and Renji in time. But what about everyone else?” Hisana asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Kaien asked, confused.

“What about the people of the Rukongai? What about the dozens and dozens of innocent civilians who would have died in the time it took you to put together an ‘optimal squad team’? What about _them_?” Hisana asked, voice rising. “Would you have ignored all protocol to get to _them_ in time too?” She tilted her chin up, looking him straight in the eye. “If you won’t do it for the people you’re supposed to protect, who need your help the most—how can I expect you to do it for me?”

“You’re my friend. Both you and your siblings are strong candidates for becoming shinigami. I could make an exception for you, but on a regular basis? There are rules in place for this kind of situation,” Kaien argued weakly.

“You’re a lieutenant and the head of a greater noble clan, Shiba-fukutaicho.” Hisana’s gaze was as sharp as glass. “If you don’t agree with the rules, find a way to change them.”

“It’s not that easy,” Kaien murmured. “Change…comes slowly here.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Hisana said, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was. “Difficult doesn’t mean impossible, Kaien. And even if it does, it doesn’t mean that we don’t _try.”_

 

* * *

 

“Tsk, tsk. Tryin’ ta escape? Wow, medics really _do_ make the worst patients,” Gin marveled. At the sight of him, Hisana groaned. Gin’s smile widened.

“I suppose it’s too late to pretend I’m still in a coma?” She muttered under her breath, still with one leg out the window.

“’Fraid so, Hisana-chan,” he said, sauntering up to her and offering her his hand. She ignored it, instead marching straight back into bed and pulling the sheets over her head.

“Did you know, out of all the people I would have liked to seen while recovering from a coma, you didn’t even make the top hundred on the list,” she told him, voice muffled by her blankets.

“Ah, so I _did_ make the list,” he said cheerfully, purposefully taking a seat on top of her stomach. She yelped, whipping her sheets off and glaring daggers at him.

“Please don’t make me sacrifice my one and only pillow just so I can have something to throw at you, Ichimaru-san.”

 “Ouch, so _violent._ Come on, I’m not allowed to check up on how a dear friend is doing?” He ignored Hisana’s mutter of _We’re not friends, you weirdo;_ it was practically background noise by now, anyway. “But I’m glad ta see you seem ta be more or less back to normal.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hisana said flatly. “I’m deathly ill. About to pass out. And incredibly contagious, to boot; some new infectious disease. You really shouldn’t be in here, you could get it too. Cough cough.”

“I think I’ll take that risk,” Gin said, amused.

A knock on the door caught their attention.

“Uh, s-sorry to interrupt,” a rather pretty looking medic said, his face paling when he saw Gin. He quickly turned to address Hisana. “Yukimura-san, Hirakawa-san is requesting pain medication again—”

“He can request all the pain medication he wants, Ogidou-san. You’re not to give him any,” Hisana said, her voice abruptly cooling.

“But—” Ogidou hesitated.

“He has a broken leg, Ogidou-san. It’s not like I’m sending him into surgery without anesthesia,” Hisana scoffed. Her expression softened a little as she took in Ogidou’s nervousness. “If he gives you or any of the other medics trouble, send him to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Rather harsh of you, isn’t it?” Gin observed once Ogidou left, turning to look at Hisana curiously.

“It’s against our policy to give potentially mind-altering drugs to shinigami who are already in a mentally compromised state,” Hisana said blandly. “And I’m afraid Hirakawa-san was displaying signs of both severe mental impairment and an incredible lack of sound judgement.”

“Wow,” Gin said, raising his eyebrows. “He must’ve _really_ pissed ya off.”

Hisana glanced up at him before looking back down at her hands.

“He was harassing one of my friends. She told him no more than once, but he wouldn’t back off,” she said softly. “Granted, my friend…she’s more than capable of handling Hirakawa-san herself, but I saw no reason to make his life easier.” She turned to look him in the eye. “I don’t take kindly to people that mess around with those I care about, Ichimaru-san.”

“I think what ya did ta those hollows more than proves that,” he murmured. “Not a single one left remaining, or so I hear.”

“They hurt my sister. They _speared her through the chest,_ Ichimaru-san. You think I would have left any of them alive?” Hisana asked sharply.

“No,” Gin said, his usual smile fading into something more genuine. “No, you wouldn’t have.” He was quiet for a moment. “Still, ya got lucky this time. Eventually, there’s going ta come an enemy ya can’t beat. And they’re going ta be stronger, faster, smarter than you. And if they come after your sister…” He glanced at her. “Is she really worth destroying yourself for?”

At that, Hisana’s lips turned up into a humorless smile.

“You know, it’s funny,” she said, laughing bitterly. “My zanpakuto spirit said something similar. She couldn’t understand why I would give up _so much_ for…what? Vengeance? Justice? As far as she was concerned, nothing was worth the cost of my life. Which I understand; if I die, after all, then that means she failed. Still, to think—my own _soul_ couldn’t understand just what Rukia means to me.” Hisana swallowed, looking down at her hands.

“You ask me if she’s worth it…I’ve never told anyone this before, but I’ve asked myself the same question more times than I care to admit. Back when we first arrived in Inuzuri, there were countless moments where I thought about giving her up. _Wanted_ to give her up.” She bit her lip, hard enough to break the skin. “The Rukongai…well, you know how it is. In a lot of ways, the people there aren’t much better than hollows. It was hard enough to survive on my own and Rukia…Rukia was a burden. She ate too much and she never seemed to stop crying and I always had to worry about protecting her, when I couldn’t even protect _myself—”_

Gin clenched his fists, thinking back to a time when a girl with brightly colored hair and eyes the color of the sky followed him around _everywhere_ , the girl who cried too much and always tried to help the wrong people, the many times he’d thought about leaving and never coming back—

“—and I came so very close to leaving her. Oh, I justified it in my head. Told myself I had nothing to offer her, that she was better off without me, anything to ease the guilt I felt. I wrapped her up in a blanket, set her down in an alleyway, and…I couldn’t do it. I went back for her. It wasn’t out of duty or even concern for her wellbeing, although I like to think that was part of it. I went back for her because she was the only thing I had left and I couldn’t bear to give that up. Raising her was difficult…the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but at least it gave me a reason to get up every day, you know? And it’s a heady thing, to be needed when you feel at your most worthless,” Hisana breathed, tucking her knees to her chest. Gin closed his eyes. A part of him didn’t want to keep listening, wanted to walk away, and yet—

“I mean, at this point, I’d already lost a great deal of my faith in humanity. I loathed every person who shut the door in my face, who tried to beat me over taking a few scraps of bread—bread they didn’t even _need,_ the greedy bastards. And I hated myself, too, for turning away from people in need, for stealing from children and other people who were simply trying to _survive._ You have to understand, Rukia was the only light in my life. I was at the lowest I’d ever been, and she—” Hisana took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “She was so… _pure,_ so happy, and I thought if I could just…if I could protect her, preserve even a bit of that innocence, then maybe there was a kind of redemption in that.” Hisana looked down, studying her hands. When she looked back up again, her eyes were dry.

“Rukia gave me a purpose when I had nothing, she made the world seem a little brighter when I hated it. For that, Ichimaru-san, I owe her a debt greater than I can ever repay.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked, feeling strangely numb. She _must_ have known it was unwise—downright _stupid,_ really—to trust him with something this personal. So why—?

Hisana didn’t reply for a long time.

“You once told me that we were similar,” she said slowly. “Because we were both the type of people who’d burn the whole world down in order to keep those we truly care about safe. I guess I figured if anyone was capable of understanding, it’d be you.” She paused, a wry smile on her face. “And besides, what have I told you that you haven’t already guessed? Or experienced, I suppose it’d be more accurate to say.”

Despite himself, Gin stiffened.

“Relax,” Hisana said, taking in his response. “I won’t ask you who your Rukia is. Believe me, I have no interest in learning any more about your personal life than I have to. All I wanted was for you to listen, so you’d understand just how far I’d go to keep my sister safe.”

“Ya aren’t worried that I’ll use her against ya?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Hisana paused.

“No. I believe there are lines that even you won’t cross, Ichimaru-san,” she said calmly. “And besides, you’re not that stupid.”

 

* * *

 

There were certain things Aizen Sousuke expected upon sitting down in a ramen restaurant. Hearing a muffled ‘ow, fuck!’ was not one of them.

Leaning down to peer beneath the table, his eyebrows shot up as he came face to face with a pair of startled violet eyes.

“Yukimura-san. What a surprise to see you here,” he said mildly, taking in the ostentatious feathered cloak and straw hat she was wearing. “Would you care to join me?”

“Aizen-fukutaicho,” she stammered, face turning red. I promise, I can explain—”

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, lips twitching. “But in the meantime, may I offer you something to drink?”

“Tea would be nice,” she said after a moment of thought. She took a moment to scan the restaurant and outside street before crawling out from under the table. “My apologies for startling you, Aizen-fukutaicho.”

“Not at all. You just made my day much less boring,” he replied, pouring her a cup of oolong tea. “I am impressed, I have to admit. It’s not often I’m caught off guard.”

“Oh, the credit lies with my Invisibility Cloak,” Hisana said, jerking her thumb at her cloak. Sousuke paused.

“Invisibility Cloak?” He asked, voice carefully neutral. Hisana scowled.

“This is the last time I’m trusting Urahara-taicho,” she muttered under her breath. “He told me it would help disguise me from the senses. He should’ve specified that it only helps disguise me from _reiatsu_ sensing.”

“It’s not disguising you now, though,” Sousuke pointed out. He could clearly sense her spiritual energy.

“…and apparently it only works up until someone has noticed you,” Hisana sighed, tossing her cloak off.  “I take back everything I ever said about him giving nice presents. This is a piece of junk.”

“And the hat? What does that do?” Sousuke asked curiously.

“This? Oh, this is just my backup disguise in case Urahara-taicho was having me on,” Hisana said, motioning towards her straw hat. She grinned at him, fluttering her eyelashes. “What? Are you telling me this _isn’t_ the epitome of all disguises, Aizen-fukutaicho?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, mock-solemnly.

“Shame,” Hisana sighed, taking off her hat and setting it down on her recently-abandoned cloak. “Guess I’m not that great at coming up with disguises, huh? Honestly, the only way I could’ve done worse is if I’d just thrown on a pair of fake glasses and called it a day. Now _there’s_ a lame disguise.”

In the back of his head, Kyouka Suigetsu snorted.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sousuke argued. “A pair of fake glasses, a new hairdo…why, you could change a person’s entire looks with that.”

“I suppose that’s true. Take away your glasses, and I’m not sure I’d be able to recognize you, Aizen-fukutaicho,” Hisana said, studying his face. “I hope you never get rid of them. You’re very dashing just the way you are.”

Sousuke smiled.

“Not for another century, at least,” he promised. He handed her a menu. “Here, order anything you like. My treat.”

_“Yukimura Hisana!”_

At the sound of her name, Hisana suddenly paled and promptly dived back under the table. This did not, in any way, deter the very angry Iemura Yasochika who immediately descended upon her, brandishing what looked like a rather beat-up pillow in her face.

Sousuke was impressed. He didn’t think the 4th Division Fifth Seat had even noticed him yet in his rage.

“Yukimura, would you care to explain why I found _this_ in your bed instead of you?” Iemura motioned towards the pillow furiously. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to have hair drawn on it along with a lopsided smiley face.

“Pillow-san!” Hisana cried out in clear dismay. “What have they done to you?” Iemura slapped one hand to his forehead.

“Yukimura, could you, _please_ , not be completely ridiculous for once in your life?” He asked through gritted teeth. Hisana ignored him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stitch you up, maybe get you a stuffing transfusion while I’m at it—”

“I’m assuming Iemura-san is who you were hiding from?” Sousuke spoke up, causing Iemura to freeze in place.

“I wouldn’t have escaped if he’d just let me have some ramen,” Hisana said sullenly, clutching the pillow to her chest.

“ _You don’t deserve ramen, you—”_

“How about this, Iemura-san? We’ll pick up some food to go, and then I’ll personally escort her back to the Fourth.” Sousuke cut in smoothly. “It’ll be no trouble on my part, I assure you.”

“Very well then.” Iemura hesitated. “If you’re sure, Aizen-fukutaicho.”

“I am,” Sousuke said firmly.

“In that case, thank you,” he said, bowing before taking off.

Hisana waited until Iemura was out of earshot before letting out an audible sigh of relief.

“I really must thank you, Aizen-fukutaicho. You just saved me from a very long lecture,” she said, turning to face him.

“You don’t need to thank me. It was no problem.” He waved over a nearby waitress and ordered a bowl of miso ramen before turning to look at her questioningly.

“I’ll have the same,” she said quickly. “And send the bill to me.”

Sousuke raised his eyebrows.

“Now _that_ was unnecessary. I already said I’d pay,” he protested.

“After you rescued me from Iemura-senpai and sent me such a nice gift, this is the least I can do,” she argued stubbornly.

“Ah,” Sousuke smiled at the reminder. “You liked it, I hope? You had a go board in your room—I figured you might want to try chess out as well.”

“It’s a beautiful chessboard,” she said softly.

“Do you play?” He asked curiously. As a Western game, it was unusual to come across people who did.

“I have a passing familiarity with it. Urahara-taicho is a fan of strategic games,” she explained. “Me, I’m little more than a beginner. But I’m learning.”

“One more thing we have in common then,” Sousuke said warmly. “We must play a game together sometime.”

“I’d be delighted.” She glanced up at him. “Although, I doubt very much that you’re an amateur.”

His steps faltered for the briefest second before he recovered.

“What makes you say that?” He asked cautiously. She gave him an amused look.

“In my experience, if a person gives someone else a game as a gift, and then _challenges_ them to that game, then they must be fairly certain in their chances of winning,” she told him.

“You would prefer I tell you that you had no chance at all?” He asked just as their ramen arrived.

“There’s always a chance, no matter how miniscule,” Hisana said, passing a few kan over to the waitress. “But yes, I would prefer that you be frank with me about my chances. I’ll always prefer honesty from you, Aizen-fukutaicho, no matter how brutal.”

“You’d still play? Even if you knew you were going to lose?” Sousuke asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hisana asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Rather takes the fun out of it, don’t you think? The thrill is in the uncertainty, after all—not knowing if you’re going to win or lose,” Sousuke replied.

“For me, the thrill is in the learning experience,” Hisana said, as they exited the restaurant. “And by losing, I’ll get better until eventually…who knows? Maybe I’ll get to the point where I can finally win a game.”

“You think you will?” Sousuke asked, and it took effort to keep the mockery out of his voice.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever beat you,” Hisana said, shaking her head. “But you don’t know that I won’t.”

“That’s true, you may surprise me. You already have,” Sousuke admitted. Granted, in the grand scheme of things taking out a few dozen hollows singlehandedly was hardly noteworthy, but it was…unexpected, all the same. “Either way, I look forward to our game.”

“As do I,” Hisana said, an unreadable expression on her face. “I hope that when the time comes, Aizen-fukutaicho, I prove a worthy opponent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not pictured: Hisana’s mental monologue of ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck why out of all the fucking tables in the stupid ramen shop did he have to pick the one I was hiding under oh fuck oh fuck do you think he suspects me wait did I accidentally pit myself against Aizen freaking Sousuke oops please let him think I’m still talking about chess’  
> For those curious, Hisana was definitely aware the last few days of her coma. Unable to move much but slowly building up her strength and somewhat cognizant of what was going on. Which is why she wasn’t freaking out more after waking up—that and the fact that her memories were still kind of fuzzy.  
> Also yeah, there are some serious drawbacks to Hisana’s second shikai ability and she already revealed the biggest one to Byakuya—she can’t turn it off voluntarily. The only way to deactivate it is by killing the people she set out to kill. It’s fairly similar to Barragan’s power, actually, only instead of causing death via aging, it just causes straight up death. 
> 
> Also for those who aren't already aware, I posted a series of short WTL-related drabbles under the title Sidewalks. Latest chapter is a Gin/Hisana what-if snippet. Currently, I am planning on adding a second part eventually, with a Gin/Hisana/Rangiku endgame.


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